


Hired by the Boss

by joondaes



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 83,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24159517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joondaes/pseuds/joondaes
Summary: Kyungsoo's choices aren't always perfect. He may have enrolled in a master's degree program to escape from the crazy pace of life and accepted the challenge to work for a businessman with quite a reputation.
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongin | Kai
Comments: 266
Kudos: 356





	1. Rotten Luck

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the Chief Executive Officer of J&T Group of Companies, Mr. Kim Jongin,” the emcee announces, followed by a round of applause.

Kyungsoo’s stomach lurches. He sits half-dead, half-blind, suffering from severe headache. Each burp tastes like a mixture of tequila, egg salad sandwich, and death. He admits he should have skipped the happy hour and declined Chanyeol’s invitation to seize the weekend. He cannot even remember how he managed to hail a cab or if Jongdae did him the honors of sending him home.

There is a crushing pain around Kyungsoo’s skull, and he surrenders to it, not moving a muscle in a desperate attempt to recover. But the moment Jongin steps on the podium and flashes the audience a perfunctory smile, Kyungsoo’s eyes squint, hard enough to notice the man’s perfectly coiffured hair and tailored suit.

“It is an honor to be here with you today as the Business Executive of the Year,” Jongin begins with an air of confidence. “Thank you, Mr. Choi Siwon, for the generous introduction. Of course, I am grateful to Mr. Lee Sooman, who assiduously makes it possible for people of different backgrounds, ideologies, and ambitions to come together in pursuit of success. Mr. Lee, you are indeed a paragon of excellence, a catalyst for change. The industry is lucky to have you.”

“It's pathetic that pretentious, shallow, rich entrepreneurs commend that man,” Chanyeol says. “What a bunch of gullible fools. They think he speaks such a profound message to the public when the truth is in plain sight. He milks money out of people. It’s disgusting.”

“No evidence proves the articles circulating on social media are true,” Kyungsoo explains. He chooses to be objective.

“He lives a luxurious life, drives an expensive car, and owns a private jet to fly him around. He’s even planning to buy a fucking penthouse in Manhattan. How greedy can he be?”

“I understand where your animosity is coming from, but he’s worth exactly what the company's clients are willing to pay. If he performs to the level expected of him, then he has a hundred percent earned it.”

Chanyeol's lips move, forming varying lengths of expletives, but not quite managing to voice them. “The world is not fair, Kyungsoo. I've seen talented, hardworking people toil for a lifetime and never escape from the clutches of the system. I've seen untalented, power-hungry idiots be victorious because of nepotism or who their parents are.”

Kyungsoo nods in acknowledgment. “Your sister is an intelligent woman. I admire her.” He casts Chanyeol a genuine smile. “J&T's decision to fire her was a terrible idea.”

“Yeah, are you okay?” Chanyeol asks, his eyebrows creasing. “You look sick.” He offers Kyungsoo a bottle of water.

Kyungsoo grunts. “You bet hangover sucks.”

Kyungsoo concentrates on the presentation, struggling to read the words projected on the screen. The experience of being an audience to Jongin could have been better if Kyungsoo picked a seat closer to the stage or did not forget to bring his eyeglasses. From a distance, Jongin is a mere giant blur.

“Do something that frightens you,” Jongin says on the microphone as his speech progresses. “Make that massive leap. Soar high. Follow your desires. It can be terrifying, but I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: you were born with unlimited potential. Embrace it.”

By the time the resource speakers have gathered for a photo, the emcee concludes the event, thanking the attendees. Kyungsoo rushes to the comfort room, face-first into the toilet bowl, stifling a groan. It’s a lesson learned. He’s not going to fall into Chanyeol’s trap the next time he invites him to party.

Kyungsoo enters the elevator, head stooped in embarrassment, damping another napkin on the corners of his mouth. He surveys the area for good measure. There are black marble walls, a gray carpet, a silver handrail, and beside him is none other than Jongin, one of the most distinguished businessmen in the country. To Kyungsoo’s surprise, he freezes right on the spot, hoping he doesn’t smell like vomit. He sniffs himself to check.

The doors slide shut. Kyungsoo spares a nonchalant gaze at Jongin. He’s a tall, clean-shaven man in his early thirties, with features molded from granite, a robust frame, and a razor-sharp jawline curved around the strength of his neck. He wears the classic look of a leader – his expression steady, almost petrifying, his eyes unblinking yet cautious.

Jongin's phone rings. “Yes, Youngmin,” he says in a firm voice. He carries an austere and self-contained demeanor. “Enlighten me.” He pauses, expecting a response. “You're trying? Well, trying is not enough. What have I told you before? There is no room for incompetence at a time of crisis.” Jongin’s jaw clenches. “What makes you think you deserve an hour?” The air thickens. He glances at his watch. “Fifteen minutes, Youngmin. Do me a favor and be responsible. Give them a heads-up. Keep the press in the dark. I don't want another public relations disaster. Do you understand me?”

It doesn’t take long before the lift grinds to a halt. Jongin heads toward the curb where a chauffeur stands, holding the car door open and greeting him with a polite bow as he slips into the vehicle.

Kyungsoo is flabbergasted beyond words. He should have believed Chanyeol and the rumors about Jongin’s despicable behavior. If a literal burning hell existed, it would be on the floor of Jongin’s office. Kyungsoo cannot imagine how toxic it must be for the people around Jongin to breathe the same air with him. The stench of hypocrisy is horrendous and makes Kyungsoo want to barf again.

* * *

The hospital where Meihui stays for treatment is a modern-looking edifice, nine stories high, with sturdy, timber frames. There is a distinct sense of familiarity that welcomes Kyungsoo as he saunters into the building. It’s difficult for him to ignore the nostalgia. The memories of the car accident flash before him in vivid details, lingering on his skin, on his head. He could have been there to save them.

Kyungsoo closes his eyes, breathing at regular intervals. It has been two and a half years. He cannot let the guilt haunt him forever. He musters the courage, and with a significant amount of it, he walks straight ahead.

“Hello, grandma Meihui,” Kyungsoo greets. “Guess what? I brought you your favorite twisted breadsticks!” He places the box of pastry on the desk.

“Thank you, Kyungsoo,” Meihui says. “You’re very thoughtful.”

“How are you feeling today?”

Meihui smiles ruefully, tears threatening to spill as she holds Kyungsoo’s hand. “I’m happy because you’re here. I feel much better having people around. It’s kind of sad to think they’ve forgotten about me. But I understand. I should understand as early as now. Eventually, I’ll be gone.” She glances between Yixing and Kyungsoo, hopeful and expectant. “I don’t think I’m ready to go. I’ll probably never be.”

Kyungsoo’s throat constricts. “What are you talking about? Look at you. You’re a strong woman, grandma.” He caresses Meihui’s temple. “You have me and Yixing hyung.”

“Well, that makes me a lucky woman, too.”

“Have you eaten?” Yixing asks Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo nods. “I'm quite full.”

“How about we grab some coffee?”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

They settle for vanilla lattes and apple pies at a nearby café. Yixing is quick to initiate a conversation about spending more time with Meihui. “The kids are extra supportive. They've actually sent me roses made out of paper with a card that reads 'We love you, Teacher Xing.'“

“You have the sweetest students,” Kyungsoo says, grinning. “How long are you taking some time off?”

“I'm not sure. I can't leave grandma. Not when she needs me the most.”

“What did the doctors say?”

“The doctors were recommending a more aggressive treatment approach, but she refused to go through it. She's tired.”

Kyungsoo's heart plummets. He extends an arm and gives Yixing's shoulder a squeeze. “I'm sorry, hyung.”

Yixing offers him a tentative smile. “I'm glad you've decided to drop by. We seldom get visitors, and grandma feels as though people had completely stopped caring about her.”

“She's like a mother to me. You’re like a brother to me.”

“Thank you, Kyungsoo. What about you? How have you been? Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course. I can't afford to be not okay. I mean, really. I've got bills to pay.”

“Well, you look healthier and more handsome,” Yixing compliments.

Kyungsoo admires Yixing’s light-hearted disposition. It comforts him in times of uncertainty. “By the way, were you able to publish your book?”

“Ah, not yet. I had problems with a few chapters, but I’m working on them.”

“I hope it reaches the market. You’ll have to sign my copy, though.”

“That’ll be a dream come true.” Yixing pauses, observing the way Kyungsoo’s fingers are clutching the mug of coffee. They have turned faint red from the heat. “You were out of sight after the celebration,” he says, wary that Kyungsoo may take it negatively. “I didn’t have the chance to congratulate you.”

There is a lapse of silence. Kyungsoo’s eyes shift from Yixing to the window. “It wasn't a huge victory.”

“Kyungsoo, having your research paper accepted in an international publication isn't easy. You've done a great, great job. Why did you leave?”

“I needed to be alone.” There is no point in lying because Yixing can read him like carved phrases in an abandoned building. “I saw how happy everyone was for me. It reminded me of my parents, my brother, and they were just nowhere.”

“I’m sorry.” Yixing’s voice drops.

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “It’s okay. I think I got too emotional that day.”

“I think you deserved to be happy that day.” Yixing sees Kyungsoo swallow back his tears. “Your parents and your brother, I’m sure they’re proud of you. You did your best every step of the way. Kyungsoo, you were very strong.”

“I didn’t have a choice. I had to be strong.”

“You’re allowed to hurt. You can scream at the top of your lungs, pound your fists against the walls, or cry your emotions off, but it’s not your fault that they’re gone. You need to let go of the thought that you could have been there for them. You’re just human.”

“I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know if I can fully let go of the people who have once cared for me and made me feel alive.”

Kyungsoo spends the night sitting on a covered patio, eating squid chips, and laughing with Yixing while reminiscing about the best sitcoms. There is drizzle, but he feels warm like a child. He wishes Yixing more strength, patting him on the back before parting ways.

He wanders home through the dark and quiet streets, passing by empty parks and closed storefronts. As he reaches the apartment, he slips into some comfortable clothes.

In the bedroom, he gathers and rummages through a box of clutter. He yanks the only family photo he has. It was captured from the high school graduation rites seven years ago. His father was a handsome man, with a mane of gray hair and a pair of wide-set eyes. His mother had her hair bundled in a neat ponytail and stood with a statuesque figure that made her appear younger. His brother was fair and gaunt, with plump cheeks, a pointed nose, and a heart-shaped face. All of them grinned charmingly at the camera. For a second, Kyungsoo's lips quiver, remembering the exact moment, and it hurts him to realize he could have celebrated more special occasions with them.

Underneath, there is a photo of him and Ryeowook. He brought it to the dorm and pinned it to the corkboard back in college. It was memorable, doubly because Kyungsoo's cheeks had streaks of multicolor icing and Ryeowook's birthday hat looked too small on him.

A tiny note peeks from Kyungsoo's favorite book. It reads: _t_ _he opposite of success is not failure, but fear_. Kyungsoo heeds the message and succumbs to the night.

* * *

Kyungsoo squints at the digital clock that blinks ten-fifteen. He freefalls on the other side of the bed, but before he can even pull the blanket on top of him and sleep for another hour, a phone call startles him. He groans in frustration. “Hello?”

“Are you still in bed?” Ryeowook asks, earning a gibberish response from Kyungsoo. “Where have you been? I don’t see you dropping by the bar as often as usual.”

“I’ve been neck-deep in graduate school. I’m trying to be the ideal student on-campus.”

“While killing your social life? Calm down, young man. One step at a time.” Ryeowook sighs. “Seriously, you should go out.”

“But it’s raining.”

“Hence, the umbrella. I’m planning to buy groceries. Come with me, please? You avoid me like a debt collector.”

Kyungsoo sits up. “Wait, do I owe you money?”

“No, silly. Move. Don’t bother changing. It’s just me.”

“I’m literally wearing sweatpants and I look like I haven’t had a good night’s rest for a year, hyung.”

“Oh, shut up, your eye bags make you human, and what’s there to hide? I’ll see you in thirty, okay? I’m hanging up.”

It takes Kyungsoo a hot shower and a quick scrub in the bathroom before he meets Ryeowook at the local market. He finds him pushing a cart to the dairy section.

“Were you oversleeping on purpose?” Ryeowook gripes.

“No, the conference left me questioning why I decided to pursue a master’s degree. I got exhausted from thinking about it,” Kyungsoo explains, grabbing a carton of low-fat milk for Ryeowook. “My books are basically tethered to my body.”

“Let me remind you that you took your master’s degree because you wanted to learn more. You weren’t forced to enroll. You did it yourself. You created your suffering.”

“I was miserable. I needed an escape.”

“Well shit, Kyungsoo. I didn’t realize your quarter-life crisis screwed you terribly.”

Kyungsoo chuckles, clinging arms with Ryeowook. “I’m kidding. There are certain things I love about graduate school, except that it’s an expensive form of self-torture.”

Ryeowook pokes him on the forehead. “Study hard, or I’ll have to beat your professor’s ass for not motivating you enough.”

“My professor’s pretty hot. I’m more than motivated.”

“Must be nice looking at a whole package while he’s in the middle of a lecture.”

As they head to the cashier, Kyungsoo spots a rack of magazines. He catches a familiar face on the front cover and stews at the fact that it is indeed Jongin. He grabs a copy, browsing a couple of pages, then reads the blurb _Business Executive of the Year: An Unbridled Spirit_. Kyungsoo’s blood boils as he stares at Jongin’s photo. He cannot believe he is harboring hostility toward the executive.

“Nice suit,” Ryeowook comments from behind. “He’s handsome, but I’ve seen enough movies to confirm a wealthy businessman like him is a total sociopath.”

“I agree.” He puts back the magazine. “He’s not that interesting, though.”

“Oh, have you met him in person?”

“Yeah, just an average-looking man.”

“Thank god for photoshop.”

* * *

The sun is high as the clock strikes eight. Kyungsoo drives to the university, stoked and energized for his first class, hoping he gets there on time. He doesn’t want to miss Professor Jo Jungsuk’s introduction to the lecture. The man inspires him in all academic aspects. Kyungsoo thinks of him each time he needs a reason to attend a butt-numbing seminar that runs for nine hours straight.

As he trudges down the corridor, he passes through small packs of three to four students milling around with briefcases, dressed in dark shades of clothing. One of the best things about joining business school is how it complements Kyungsoo's wardrobe. He barely stumbles across people wearing bright colors like yellow or orange.

Jungsuk proceeds with the lesson. He is a brilliant, seasoned business expert of forty, specializing in career-coaching, rumored to be the next nominee for a prominent organization in the country. He likes wearing dress shirts with quarter-length sleeves. Some students swear they have seen him in a soft salmon button-down that women of varying ages find incredibly attractive. If there was a list of approachable professors, Jungsuk would rank first. On-campus, he speaks with authority but doesn't fail to crack a joke, breaking the tension. Off-campus, he is deemed friendly and generous. The majority agree, considering they have invited him out for drinks more than once.

“Please email me your papers on or before Thursday,” Jungsuk says. “Late submissions will not be accepted.”

Kyungsoo writes a reminder on his already-full planner.

* * *

“How is it going between you and your chick?” Jongdae asks, munching a piece of fried dumpling.

Chanyeol motions the waiter to bring another serving of kimchi. “There is progress.”

“Progress? You mean, she responds to your messages five minutes earlier than before?” Jongdae teases.

Chanyeol's expression hardens at Jongdae's attempt to provoke him. He lets it go. “I'm trying to be in a relationship, Jongdae. Can you at least not be a dick about it?”

“Who's the lucky girl?” Kyungsoo chips in.

“Im Jinah. She’s drop-dead gorgeous, and I’m drop-dead crazy for her.”

“Damn, Chanyeol. I can tell.”

“She’s the HR Director of J&T.”

“Oh my god, she works for the Kims?” Jongdae's eyes grow round.

“What? I thought you hated Kim Jongin’s guts,” Kyungsoo reminds. “J&T is not even that special.”

Jongdae fights the urge to snort at Kyungsoo’s violent reaction. He doesn’t dare engage in verbal combat with him. “J&T is massive. It's a dream for business geeks. Don’t forget Professor Jo’s mad respect for Kim Jongun.”

“It’s Kim Jongin. Regardless, it’s not a dream. There are thousands of companies that are far better than J&T.”

“Name one, Kyungsoo.”

Kyungsoo visibly falters. “Why do I have to? Google can give you an entire results list.”

“Yeah, I think I'll have to agree with Jongdae,” Chanyeol says, sharing a mutual recognition with Jongdae. “J&T and you, an absolutely perfect pair.”

“What is wrong with you?” Kyungsoo scowls. “You literally told me you’d set the Kims on fire if you could.”

Chanyeol scoots near Kyungsoo. “Kyungsoo,” he begins. “Jinah is different from them. You see, I can predict your future. You'll be part of J&T in two to three weeks. How does that sound?”

“Atrocious.” Kyungsoo's thoughts cloud as he studies Chanyeol's face. “Look, Chanyeol, I'm happy for you and your love interest, but please quit the J&T fever. It’s annoying.”

“Well, I guess you have no choice,” Chanyeol tells him. Kyungsoo senses a looming catastrophe about to spill out of Chanyeol's mouth. “I may have sent Jinah your résumé and convinced her you're the best applicant for the secretary position.”

Jongdae spits a mouthful of water in the air. “Holy shit, you didn't.”

“Oh yes, I fucking did.” Chanyeol gulps as he meets Kyungsoo's penetrating gaze. “I wanted to help her, and I also remembered you were on a job hunt after you left SMENT.”

Kyungsoo’s patience snaps. “Chanyeol, you should have consulted me first! It's a real job. It's not a summer internship.”

“You'll do great there! I promise I'll let Jinah know about your terms.”

“I don't care about the terms!”

“Kyungsoo doesn't want it,” Jongdae says, trying to make peace. “Just give it to me.”

“Hell no,” Chanyeol dismisses. “I really like Jinah. I'm sorry for dragging you into this, Kyungsoo. I was hoping to score a date with her. I suggested you because you had the potential.”

“What about me?” Jongdae interrupts, sounding offended.

“Oh, cut the crap, Jongdae,” Chanyeol says. Jongdae huffs at him. “Kyungsoo, please. Can you do it for me? You can just stay for a month, then file your resignation, or you might even find it enjoyable to be in the company.”

For a couple of seconds, Kyungsoo shuts his eyes, processing the information. He cannot believe how often Chanyeol puts him in trouble. “When is the interview?”

“Tomorrow, ten in the morning.”

“Are you saying I have less than twenty-four hours to prepare?”

Chanyeol scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately, why am I friends with you?”

“Am I finally getting a yes?”

* * *

The thirty-story headquarters is an extraordinary feat of architecture, with frames constructed of heatproof glass and stainless steel. They match the massive door where patches of men and women are passing through. The high-rise structure stands among the cluster of buildings towering over the metropolis. It is an elegant sight, not in an olde-worlde way, but in a modern-classic look.

Of course, the Kims are recognized for leading an empire that houses approximately thirty thousand workers worldwide. Fundamentally, the public considers the business group a striking figure for its contributions to market research.

The lobby is large enough to gather more than a hundred people. The walls, staunch and pristine, are painted in oak white, which aesthetically complements the marble flooring and interior décor.

It’s a busy place. Across the room, a lady in a one-button suit ushers a balding Japanese mogul to the elevator hall. She looks young and bushed but she wears a very welcoming smile. At the entrance, a uniformed security guard gazes around the area, watching each and every individual, while a few employees drink coffee and chat in the corner.

For decades, the Kims have solidified the company’s passion for and commitment to work, catering to the needs of its clients, both local and international.

Kyungsoo plods in a white shirt and a black blazer matching a pair of slim-fit slacks. He sits on the lounge, feeling a strange mixture of dread and excitement as he waits for Jinah.

After a few minutes, he sees Jinah, smartly dressed in a lady suit and peep-toe stilettos, heading toward his direction. She is effortlessly beautiful.

“Hi Mr. Do, how are you doing?”

“Great. I’m thrilled to be here.” Kyungsoo tries to sound more convincing than sarcastic.

“We’re moving to your final interview. This way, please.” Jinah gestures in an opposite direction.

They reach Jinah's office. It’s a room surrounded with glass wall partitions that stretch across the corridor.

“I've reviewed your résumé and I must admit your credentials are highly commendable,” Jinah begins. Despite the position she holds as director of the department, she speaks in a dignified and courteous manner. “I believe you're currently taking your master's degree in business administration.” She continues to scan Kyungsoo's papers. “What are you capable of, Mr. Do? Could you describe a specific time you had to adjust your schedule due to unforeseen circumstances?”

Kyungsoo's confidence remains solid as Jinah fires him with questions. The interview runs, and Kyungsoo responds to every query with direct, factual answers. He recounts spearheading a student organization and participating in extracurricular activities as an undergraduate. “The council experienced a ton of conflicts because of the tight schedule, but we were able to deliver an impressive output.”

“Fascinating.” Jinah nods with a small smile. She maintains an inscrutable countenance. Her eyes, however, can be deceptively intimidating. “J&T is recognized for its distinctive transformation capability as a business intelligence company. I presume you're not entirely clueless about its reputation. Over the years, it has become a lightning rod for criticism. Mr. Do, how trustworthy are you? What would you do if you received sensitive information from your superiors?”

There is a moment of silence. “I'm not in authority to disclose confidential information that may or may not put the company at risk,” Kyungsoo says with conviction. “It's an extremely unprofessional and reprehensible thing to do.”

“How far can you go to prove your point?”

“As long as it’s right and just.”

“What if your superiors had orders that do not align with your definition of right and just?”

The question catches Kyungsoo off guard. He blanches. “I'm sorry?”

“It's a challenging job, and I'm desperate for you to stay long-term,” Jinah tells him openly. “Your patience will be tested in different situations every day. But it's part of the process. The goal is to rise above the waves and get to the shore. Can you do that?”

“I understand you, Ms. Im.”

“Do you?”

“No job is easy, but that doesn't mean it's an absolute nightmare. Without a challenge, you cannot be better.”

“Very well. It’s refreshing to see your enthusiasm.” Jinah grins. “Congratulations. You're hired. Welcome to J&T, Mr. Do.”

The shock on Kyungsoo's face registers as Jinah initiates a handshake. “Really?” He accepts the gesture after a beat of hesitation. “Wow, I'm at a loss for words.” He allows the news to do a slow, monumental release. Is it good news or bad news? Kyungsoo's thoughts are in a mental traffic jam.

Jinah says, “I'll have your papers endorsed to your boss.”

“When do I meet my boss?”

“Oh, Mr. Kim is a busy man. I'll get in touch with him and let you know.”

“Mr. Kim?”

“Yes, Mr. Kim Jongin.”


	2. More Than an Impression

“Congratulations on passing the interview!” Ryeowook cheers, but it doesn't warrant him a response. He realizes the odd atmosphere and elbows Kyungsoo's side in hopes of getting a reaction. “What's the matter?” The smile on Ryeowook's lips curves into a frown. “You don't look happy.”

Kyungsoo snatches the celebratory shot of tequila from the bar top. With a quick toss of his head, he chugs it down, hissing at the aftertaste. “Do you really expect me to look happy with the fact that I'll be working for Kim Jongin?” He feels betrayed by what happened in less than twenty-four hours. To be fair, Chanyeol claims he is as shell-shocked as Kyungsoo and has apologized to him again and again.

“The hotshot from the magazine?” Ryeowook's mouth opens and shuts a few times, like a gasping fish before he completely processes the information. He's familiar with the elite reputation of J&T because its digital content producers are laudably active on social media. “Holy shit, that's a tough call.” The hate tags involving the company, however, thrive on different platforms. With how fast rumors spread online, it's difficult for him to ignore the dangerous range of accusations, including Jongin's extravagant lifestyle and six-figure paycheck. “I couldn’t be prouder of your bravery, but you didn't tell me you got hired by the boss.”

“He didn’t hire me, okay? HR did.”

“You, young man, are amazing. You should be glad you've earned the opportunity to be part of such a huge company.”

“I think I'll bail out.”

“You seem too pessimistic about your victory.”

“Kim Jongin left me with little to no good impression the first time I met him.”

Ryeowook's expression dulls. “To hell with him.” He shifts from the chair, ready to grill Kyungsoo. “Your doubts are valid, Kyungsoo. I've read some nasty stuff about him and I totally understand why you're having second thoughts.”

“He's a greedy capitalist.”

“Yeah, but if you hated him that much, you could have ditched the interview with or without the knowledge that your chances of crossing paths with him were ninety percent, at worst.”

Kyungsoo blinks, once because Ryeowook speaks no lies, twice because ninety percent is tremendously high.

“Listen,” Ryeowook prompts him. “Chanyeol submitted your résumé, insisted you take the job for the sake of dating the lady director, and probably begged you with a melodramatic, impassioned plea. You accepted your fate, decided to go, and didn't object after they appointed you as Kim Jongin's executive secretary. In short, you, Do Kyungsoo, gave your consent not only to Chanyeol or HR but also to yourself.”

Shots fired.

Kyungsoo knows Ryeowook is right, but he refuses to admit it. “Hyung,” he says, scrambling for the right words that can save him from the humiliation. “It's Kim Jongin. He's a condescending piece of – piece of unpleasantness. “

“What if you had pre-judged him? What if the rumors proved you wrong?”

“He's horrid to his employees. It's the rich asshole syndrome!”

“Relax.” Ryeowook wraps an arm around Kyungsoo's shoulder, pulling him close to him. “It's true that a good boss is better than a good company. But good is subjective. Maybe Kim Jongin's version of good doesn't necessarily match yours or mine. Does that mean he's bad? No.”

“I guess I'm just scared of what's ahead of me.”

“Trust me, you'll do great. I'm not going to put you under pressure, but I want you to think it over. Remember back in college? You missed the opportunity to join the social enterprise club because your ex was a member. Don't let regret run your life. Try, and if it doesn't work out, you can always come back and start over.” Ryeowook motions a finger at the bartender. “Drink more. It's on me tonight.”

“You're the best, hyung.”

Ryeowook shushes him. “Don't mention it. I've got your back.” He notices a group of regulars arriving from the entrance. “They're here,” he tells Kyungsoo. “I'll see you later, okay?”

“Blow them away!” Kyungsoo shouts as Ryeowook rushes to the stage.

Ryeowook greets the audience on the microphone, thanking them before beginning the performance with a gauzy haze of vocals, followed by an acoustic. The lights change colors depending on the mood of the song.

“Excuse me, do you have a pen?”

Kyungsoo hears a voice from behind. “I’m sorry?” He squints, but it’s difficult for him to see the man under dim lighting.

“Do you have a pen?” the stranger repeats, holding a piece of paper. “It got a bit dark back there, and I lost mine. I’d like to submit a song request.” He glances between Ryeowook and Kyungsoo. “I’m quite a fan.”

“Oh, sure.” Kyungsoo searches his bag and lends the man a pen.

“I’m Junmyeon, by the way.’’

“Kyungsoo. I actually know Kim Ryeowook.”

“What a coincidence. He’s my friend from high school.”

“Really? That’s wonderful. You should go say hi to him later.”

“I plan to.”

“How come I've never seen you here before?”

Junmyeon occupies the seat, facing Kyungsoo. “I'm quite a traveler. To be honest, I haven't been in the city for a month and I think I've found the best place to spend the night every time I need a breather.” He nurses a drink as the bartender serves his order.

“I hope you're having a great time, then,” Kyungsoo says. “Ryeowook hyung will be thrilled to see you.”

Junmyeon grins, raising the glass of Chardonnay before taking a sip. “So, what do you do?”

For a moment, Kyungsoo gambles between telling Junmyeon he’s a jobless, borderline broke graduate school student or that he has accepted the fate of working for Kim Jongin. “I’m currently taking my master’s degree and I’ve just passed my interview at J&T,” he says with a loose smile. “Tomorrow’s my first day.”

“Impressive.” Junmyeon nods. “It's a reputable company.”

“I'm pretty nervous, but to be better, I've learned you have to face your fears and smash through the obstacles.”

“Yeah, couldn’t agree more. What program are you taking?”

“Business administration.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Sounds like stress, too.”

Junmyeon chuckles. “How’s your thesis?”

“Oh, the dreaded question.” Kyungsoo draws a sigh. “I’ve still got a long way to go. “

“But do you enjoy it? The activities?”

“Being in business school is having the chance to hear the same thing at different times, from different people, in different ways. It's about pushing boundaries, tackling real-world issues, and making connections.” He calls the bartender's attention, maneuvering him to bring another drink. Junmyeon watches Kyungsoo with interest. “Don't get me wrong. The lengthy seminars are a pain in the ass, though. Literally.”

“And you thought the three-hour lectures you took for your bachelor's degree were the worst.”

“Exactly!” Kyungsoo groans. “You know, I probably squandered a lot of opportunities as an undergraduate.”

“We all had our own set of regrets in the past. Focus on the present and the future. I see a fighter in you.”

“Do you mind a toast?”

Junmyeon accepts the offer. “To victory.”

“To victory.” Kyungsoo downs his fourth shot of tequila.

“Junmyeon? Is that you?” Ryeowook appears, heading toward Junmyeon's direction. “It's been years! Oh my god. How are you?” He offers him a quick embrace.

Junmyeon says, “Never been in such a better mood. I'm so happy to see you, Ryeowook.” He flashes him a grin. “How's uncle?”

“He's healthy, thank you. He still paints. Talented as ever. An unstoppable soul.”

“I'd love to visit him.”

“I think he'd love that, too.”

“You were amazing up there, by the way. I wanted to request a song but I met your friend. I kind of lost track of time and forgot to hand you the paper.”

“Oh, you've met Kyungsoo.” Ryeowook turns to Kyungsoo, sending him a look of recognition. “Thank you for keeping Junmyeon company. I hope you're both enjoying the night because I'll be singing more covers in a few minutes. Stay tuned, okay?”

“Can you sing for me?” Junmyeon asks. He shows the paper to Ryeowook.

“Of course,” Ryeowook says.

“What song is it?” Kyungsoo chips in. He reads the title. “The Little Prince? Nice pick.”

“You guys sit back and just talk. We'll get more drinks after the show.” Ryeowook walks back to the stage.

“So, you like The Little Prince. It’s my favorite.”

“You have good taste.”

* * *

There is a headache pounding through Kyungsoo's skull. He’s parched, almost dehydrated, with lips as dry and rough as sandpaper. He paws through the refrigerator, but the thirst stays after each careful gulp of water. For a moment, he squints at the clock, processing the realization, then sprinting to the bathroom.

Kyungsoo bites back a curse as he arrives at the headquarters. He counts twenty-eight agonizing seconds before the lift reaches the lobby. The elevators, particularly in the middle of a crisis, tend to work in evil ways and move slower than slugs. It’s the horror of horrors in the workplace.

Upon locating the right floor, Kyungsoo spots a mass of people venturing toward the conference room. As he skitters down the corridor, he bumps into a man with gorgeous eyes.

“Oh, thank god you’re here,” the stranger says with a sigh of relief. “Can you please bring some coffee from the café? The senior partners are equally fabulous and terrifying today. It’s going to be hell on earth.”

Kyungsoo looks at him in question. He drops the guessing game. “Sure, sir.”

“Excellent. Tell Juhyun it’s an emergency. The boss needs a profanity filter, so give him an extra shot.” He earns a nod from Kyungsoo. “What’s your name again?”

“It’s Kyungsoo.”

“Thank you, Kyungsoo. Oh, what a lovely morning.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t have a single idea where he can find the café or Juhyun. Fortunately, he stumbles upon a friendly-looking female employee and asks for directions. In a matter of minutes, he sees a tall, charming lady with a name badge that reads Seo Juhyun.

“Hi, excuse me,” he says, standing by the counter. “You must be the Juhyun who runs the café.”

Juhyun smiles sheepishly at him. “Well, I’m the only Juhyun here. What can I do for you?”

“It’s an emergency.”

“Let me guess. You’re an intern.”

“No, I’m Mr. Kim’s secretary.” Kyungsoo falters at the term. He tries again. “Executive secretary. I’m Do Kyungsoo.”

“Oh, my bad.” Juhyun grabs a set of large cups. “First day of work?”

“Yeah, feels like I’m miming my way through it.”

“An ordinary day for starters.”

It takes Juhyun at least fifteen minutes to prepare the coffee. By the time Kyungsoo files into the conference room, he finds Jongin seated amid a group of men in varying suits, talking in his usual businesslike tone. Kyungsoo stops on his tracks, clutching coffee holders with both hands as Jongin casts him a warning look. He rounds the table as quick as he can, not causing noise or disturbance.

He heads for the door, but before he can even hold the knob, Jongin proceeds with the presentation. Kyungsoo sits on the nearest chair, quiet and frozen, observing Jongin’s natural movements, amazed by how eloquent he is.

Over the years, Jongin has done a remarkable job as a high-up executive, with the right combination of confidence, enthusiasm, and charisma, plus a healthy dose of stubbornness. Jongin's plans are often meticulously developed and executed. At the age of thirty-three, his skills have been sharpened with practice.

In general, Jongin spends time connecting with people as a day-to-day activity, which helps him relate to their social and economic standing. He monitors all aspects of corporate responsibility, directs each division, and ensures important decisions are properly documented. The directors, including the shareholders, trust him.

Jongin catapults to the top of the business ladder. He may not be smartest in the room full of suit-clad associates, but he makes calculated risks with brutal logic behind them. He can connect the dots and see the forest for the trees. He speaks in a language that communicates, projecting a strong delivery style, and punctuates every word with an authoritative posture and a commanding presence. In front of an audience, he listens attentively to suggestions and is not afraid to ask questions. When he leads, he leads like a crowned eagle.

The meeting ends an hour later. Kyungsoo catches Jongin leaving the conference room, briefly chatting with the board members before marching toward the elevator hall. He waits with bated breath, then follows Jongin, braving through the fear of approaching him. “Mr. Kim,” he says. Jongin turns around. “I'm Do Kyungsoo.”

Jongin stares at him from head to toe, like a piece of jewelry that has lost its luster. “So?” Jongin asks in a dismissive tone.

The level of hostility irks Kyungsoo’s nerves, but he saves the emotional outburst for later. “Ms. Im told me to proceed to your office and check if you had further instructions,” he says, anticipating Jongin’s response. He gets none but a huff.

“Did she not brief you about working hours? You were two hours late.”

“I apologize, Mr. Kim. I know it’s a bad first impression, and I guarantee you, it won’t happen again.”

“Bold of you to _guarantee_ me.” Jongin steps forward. “I don’t think you understand the importance of time and discipline in the corporate setting.” There is no friendliness in the way he gazes at Kyungsoo. “You cannot fake enthusiasm, Mr. Do. Not in front of me. My office doesn’t need someone who doesn’t take his job seriously. This is not a circus.”

Kyungsoo’s chest constricts. He suppresses the urge to scream into oblivion, having been judged based on a single mistake. “You’re right. I’ve got a lot to learn, and if you could just give me a chance to do better, I’d be extremely grateful.”

“Then show me.”

The elevator stops on the floor with a ding. Kyungsoo watches Jongin leave, quiet and seemingly relaxed, but once the door closes, he punches the air in frustration. He contemplates filing a handwritten resignation, half-regretting his decision to help Chanyeol, half-wishing he finds enough patience to deal with Jongin's behavior. Kyungsoo's courage wanes and rises, demanding him to be rational, telling him that the simplicity of a word shouldn't crush him. He has survived worse situations before. Minus the stress in graduate school, Kyungsoo's taxing experiences as an adult have been a training ground for him. He feels energized as he decides to stay. Jongin is a cakewalk, and Kyungsoo will not surrender.

“Excuse me?”

Kyungsoo snaps to attention. “Hi, can I help you?”

“Have you seen Mr. Kim by chance?” the stranger asks. He's a compact man, dressed in a navy-blue suit, with middle-parted hair, plump lips, and a handsome voice.

“You just missed him. He left a couple of minutes ago.”

“That sucks. And I don’t mean to sound rude, but are you new here?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I'm Do Kyungsoo, Mr. Kim’s secretary. _Executive_.”

“Perfect timing. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Do. I'm Lee Taemin.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Mr. Lee. Would you like me to call Mr. Kim for you?”

“No, it's okay. He's probably busy. Has he told you about the dinner tonight? You should come.” Taemin beams.

“I'm afraid he hasn't. What's the occasion?”

“Just a banquet. You'll get used to it. Money talks. Bottomless champagne. Piano music. Delicious food. You'll meet interesting people there. It's a good opportunity to expand your network with your fellows.”

Kyungsoo nods. He debates whether he's ready to be around Jongin and Jongin's allies or prefers to binge-watch movies at home. “I'll try to go.”

“Oh, please, don't try. I insist.”

* * *

“Mr. Do!” Taemin shouts. He waves a hand at Kyungsoo and invites him to join the table where he is seated. “I knew you'd come.”

Kyungsoo smiles. “It's hard to say no to bottomless champagne.”

Taemin chuckles, beckoning the waiter to serve some drinks. “There you go. You've made the right decision. Cheers.” He clinks glasses with Kyungsoo. “So, how long have you been in the city? You look young. No offense.”

“Don't worry, I hear that all the time. I mean, really. I'm twenty-five.” Kyungsoo cannot help but be amused with how Taemin's mouth gapes open at the age reveal. “I've lived here since childhood. It's a beautiful place, a vibrant city. I've met crazy inspiring people here.” He sees Jongin from a distance.

“Oh, you mean Mr. Kim?”

“Not really, but he may or may not be one of them.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you don't like him?” Taemin leans in, staring at Kyungsoo with curiosity.

Kyungsoo falls in a state of mild panic. He clears his throat. “Why would you say that?”

“Intuition?” Taemin shrugs. “I’ll tell you an unpopular opinion: Mr. Kim is a nice person.”

“He is?”

“Well, what makes you think he's not?”

“I don't know him that well to give an opinion but I've heard once or twice that people leave the company because they can't handle him.”

Taemin laughs, shaking his head. He empties his drink. “You believe that?” he asks. Kyungsoo blinks back at him in confusion. “Well, there's a bit of truth to it. It takes extreme effort to earn Mr. Kim's trust and respect. At the end of the day, he's leading the company. He needs to ensure the business runs smoothly, and that's not possible if he's surrounded by the wrong people. Being CEO is a huge responsibility, Mr. Do. It requires patience, discipline, integrity, perseverance, with a dash of stubbornness. You name it all. Believe me, Mr. Kim is arguably stubborn, but that’s what makes him extraordinary.”

“Okay, how do I react to that? I’m speechless. Hard facts over plain assumptions.”

“He's your boss. You should be proud that you're working with him.”

“I came late earlier today. He shunned me. Like a lint.”

“Don’t stress yourself out. The solution is, be on time tomorrow. No need to prance around, begging for forgiveness.”

“I can't even approach him without feeling worthless.”

“You ask him. Politely. You should have the initiative to help him. You're his executive secretary for a reason. You're supposed to minimize the burden in his office. Right?”

“You're right. I'm such an idiot. Thank you, Mr. Lee.” Kyungsoo pursues another champagne. “This champagne tastes perfect. Is it really bottomless?”

“I'm at my seventh.” Taemin smirks. “Oh, look who's here.” He nods straight ahead. “Kim Jennie.”

Kyungsoo's eyes wander around the area until he spots Jongin with a woman dressed in a pink chiffon dress, her hair bundled in a chignon, her cheeks rouged. Jennie radiates a spellbinding beauty as she mingles with the visitors around Jongin. She looks flawless, strutting in a pair of heels, her skin glowing like silk over glass.

“She owns a cosmetic line and is the daughter of a big-time investor,” Taemin says. “Don't be fooled. She's not an angel. You should never cross paths with her.”

“Because of Mr. Kim?”

“Because she works harder than the devil.”

Kyungsoo gives Jennie another once-over. He can see her stroking Jongin's shoulder, comforting him for a reason he shouldn't meddle in. He looks away and heeds Taemin's advice.

Taemin’s phone starts beeping. “Oh, Christ. Here we go again.” He snorts at the number of missed calls. “Will you please excuse me? I have to go.”

“No problem. I'll see you around.”

The banquet progresses, and with the amount of champagne in Kyungsoo's body, he leaves for a toilet break. He's far from drunk, not even close to tipsy, but he's on the path of craving a plateful of creamy white pasta with crispy bacon bits, and it sucks that the delicious food, as mentioned by Taemin, isn't delicious, at least to him.

As he reaches the comfort room, Kyungsoo freezes, shocked and horrified to catch Jongin kissing the life out of Jennie. Jennie sits on the sink, legs wrapped around Jongin's hips, stifling a moan, tugging Jongin's collar, and pulling him closer. Body against body, Jongin's fingers trace Jennie's neck down to her curves then under her dress, and at that moment, he meets Kyungsoo eye-to-eye.

Without a word, Kyungsoo hurries to the exit of the building. He hails a moving cab that blares its horn at him as he runs across the street.

Kyungsoo's face feels hot like there are layers of heat surrounding it.

He should have considered the handwritten resignation letter.


	3. To the Paris of the East

Kyungsoo thumbs through the papers on the desk as he double-checks Jongin's schedule. He's an hour early for the meeting, which allows him to appreciate the sunshine filtering through Jongin's office, soft and diffuse, and the view of the cityscape from the fourteenth floor.

The vestiges of the encounter at the banquet, however, have been seared into Kyungsoo's brain, ready to torture him in quiet moments. He cannot help but feel tense, almost embarrassed to face Jongin after what happened. He remembers Jongin's eyes on him as he latches a hand behind Jennie's neck, tongue to tongue, fingertips brushing against thighs and curves. Kyungsoo's stomach knots at the memory.

With a mask of composure, he proceeds to the executive lounge where he finds Jongin, sipping a cup of coffee, dressed to kill in a three-piece suit. Kyungsoo stands, soaking in panicked thoughts, worried that Jongin might question him for something he should have not witnessed.

“Good morning, Mr. Kim,” Kyungsoo greets as he approaches the executive. Jongin doesn’t spare him a glance. “The driver has arrived. You have an appointment with Mr. Wu at nine-thirty.”

“You're coming with me,” Jongin says, rising from his seat.

“I am?” Kyungsoo blinks blankly. He’s more surprised with Jongin’s total lack of malice.

Jongin looks at him with a hint of exasperation. “You don't have to stay here, do you?”

“No, I don't, Mr. Kim.”

“Then get moving.”

They reach a five-star restaurant and are immediately escorted by a staff. It doesn't take them long before they meet the Chinese business magnate from a multinational conglomerate.

Kyungsoo stares at Yifan in awe. In the seconds that follow, he confirms that the rumors about the man are true. Yifan exudes indefatigable energy. He's regal like a classic portrait on a fine canvas. The cameras on the national television don't do him justice, indeed.

Yifan orders first, calling the server's attention before telling Jongin and Kyungsoo to try the butter-basted steak. Kyungsoo is captivated by Yifan's politeness. People may have mistaken him for a jerk because of the messy undercut, ear piercing, and signature smirk.

“Congratulations on your successful partnership with the Songs,” Yifan says with a smile. “I've been a friend of Victoria for over a decade. She's one of the very few females I admire in the industry. I'm sure you'll get along with her.”

Jongin says, “Absolutely. I like that she's as stubborn as I am.”

Yifan chuckles in agreement. “I'm glad you've invited me out, Mr. Kim. I believe in mutual satisfaction, and guess what? I'm here to ask you a favor, too. My wife is currently searching for the perfect business personality to star on the talk show that she hosts every weekend. Obviously, that can't be me. Why don't you give it a shot and come to Shanghai? All expenses covered. Deal considered and prioritized.”

“Tell her it's done.”

“Perfect. We're also throwing Xiang a birthday party in the evening. It would mean a lot to her and me if you could extend your visit and celebrate with us.”

“It’d be a pleasure, Mr. Wu.” Jongin turns to Kyungsoo. “Mr. Do will take care of the preparations and ensure that our proposal reflects the needs of your community.”

Yifan grins at Kyungsoo. “That'll be wonderful.”

By lunchtime, Jongin and Kyungsoo have returned to the office. After a brief conversation on the revisions they have yet to complete, they call for a short break.

Kyungsoo remembers Taemin's advice, then debates whether he should initiate another work-related topic with Jongin, such as a long-overdue task or a responsibility he may or may not have forgotten. “Mr. Kim,” he says, inching forward. “I just want to tell you I'm here.” He stops as soon as he realizes how abortive it sounds. “I mean, really. It's my job to lessen your burden, and if there's anything I can do to help you, please, please let me know.”

Jongin gives him an empty gaze, without any emotion or life into it. “Okay. You may leave.”

* * *

After a major room cleaning, Kyungsoo plops face-first into the couch. It has been a productive day. He promises to cross more items off his to-do list before the dread of another Monday, coupled with a pinch of academic stress, kicks in.

In the silent recess of the room, he thinks of ways to do better at work and apply what he learned from the training. But it frustrates him that Taemin's advice doesn't seem to help. Jongin remains aloof, humorless, and extremely dour. Kyungsoo doesn't understand why Jongin talks to him in such a supercilious manner.

He dials Ryeowook's number. “How do you work with someone who doesn't like working with you?” Kyungsoo asks as Ryeowook answers the call.

“Not even a hello?” Ryeowook says, teasing. “What happened?”

“It's been a week, hyung. He hates me. He might as well get straight to the point and tell me to quit.” Kyungsoo sighs, lying supine and staring at the ceiling.

“Maybe he feels uncomfortable around you. I'd feel awkward, too, if you caught me making out with someone.”

“He didn't ask me about it.”

“Trust me, it’d be more awkward if he did.” Ryeowook waits, but Kyungsoo doesn't speak. “Listen, what happened on your first day sucked. You totally fucked that up, and it probably left him the impression you'd never do good. But I know you. You're not one to quit, Kyungsoo. Just be patient, okay? Prove him wrong. I think it's the only way to earn his trust and respect.”

Kyungsoo nods at the suggestion. “I envy you. You are your own boss and you've got a large fanbase.”

Ryeowook snorts in response. “Oh, shut up. Don't patronize me. I'm not huge. But yeah, you're right. Having Junmyeon as a fan is a hell of an achievement. I'm still flattered. He was our class valedictorian in high school. It made the girls crazy.”

“Really? Must be a nice and humble guy.”

“He's got heart eyes on you, silly.”

Kyungsoo laughs. “That's ridiculous. He's just very modest.”

“Should I set you up on a date with him?”

“You're making such a wild assumption, hyung.”

“Oh, please, nobody loses a pen out of nowhere.”

* * *

“I’ll prepare the necessary documents that you need to bring with you in Shanghai, then,” Kyungsoo says, standing at the door of Jongin’s office.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Jongin asks nonchalantly.

Kyungsoo is caught off guard. The least kind of question he expects from Jongin relates to a romantic relationship. “What?”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Jongin repeats in the same tone, except that for the second time, he's looking straight at Kyungsoo.

“No, I don’t have a girlfriend, Mr. Kim.”

“Do you like buying presents for Christmas?”

Kyungsoo’s face shifts from puzzled to amused. “Yes, I think I do. I love Christmas.”

“You’ve got to help me pick a gift for Xiang. Are you free on Saturday?”

“I have classes until four in the afternoon.”

“I’ll meet you at four-thirty.”

* * *

“I've got a sales pitch on Monday,” Chanyeol says, shoulder slumped, slurping a box of banana milk. “The big bosses are expecting a lot from me. I'm not even prepared. There are piles and piles of text waiting for me at home. Not to mention, Professor Jo's weekly requirement. Can I please have a minute to breathe?”

“Chanyeol, you're the smartest in the group. You'll do more than what's expected of you,” Kyungsoo says.

“I'm not the smartest. You are.”

“You're good at numbers.”

“You're good at ideas.”

Kyungsoo nudges Chanyeol's side. “Are you trying to flatter me because you've sacrificed me to the Kims?”

“Of course not!” Chanyeol defends. “How's work been to you, though?”

“Don't worry about it. I'm surviving.” Kyungsoo doesn't even know where and how to begin. He’s convinced Jongin does amazing in three things: leading the company, strategizing to expand the market, and making out with an investor's daughter. “Kim Jongin is the nicest person I've ever met.”

Chanyeol winces at the distinct sarcasm in Kyungsoo's tone. “Barf alert.”

“Jinah better be your girlfriend soon. My fake mask might fall off at any time.”

“Can you stay for a bit longer? Jinah's been busy, so it’ll probably take me a while. Please.”

Kyungsoo hates Chanyeol's puppy eyes and how they deceive him. “Fine,” he says halfheartedly. “To be fair, the people are welcoming. Also, they have these really delicious cinnamon rolls at the café. I'm obsessed.”

“Cinnamon rolls are actual food for the gods.”

“Jongdae, are you okay? What's the matter?” Kyungsoo asks, noticing that Jongdae has been strangely distant.

Jongdae's eyes lose their usual spark. “I'm leaving.”

“You're leaving?” Chanyeol's voice raises an octave. “Where are you going?”

“I've decided to quit. Grad school isn't for me. I know I tell you guys how much I enjoy being here, but that's because you're with me, and I'm sorry if that sounds too cheesy.” Jongdae pauses, looking between Chanyeol and Kyungsoo. “I don’t want to be an entrepreneur. I want to be a reporter.”

There is a beat of silence. “That's great,” Kyungsoo says, grinning. “You'll do fantastic, Jongdae.”

Chanyeol gawks at Jongdae. “Are you fucking serious? Do your parents even approve? Especially your dad. He's quite intimidating, to be honest. I'll never mess with him.”

“Dad is disappointed. He thinks that the only way to be successful is to build your own business. Well, I'm about to shit on that.” Jongdae smiles a bright one. “Are you guys with me?”

“Holy shit, dude. Of course, we are!” Chanyeol gives Jongdae a man hug, and Jongdae nearly topples. “Damn, you’re brave. We're so proud of you.”

“I can't believe you're finally doing what you love,” Kyungsoo says. “You’re going to crush it.”

Jongdae puts his arms over Chanyeol's and Kyungsoo's shoulders. “Brunch’s on me!”

* * *

Kyungsoo arrives at the city mall and spots Jongin standing by a shoe store. He stops right there, staring at the man for a couple of seconds, tongue-tied and flustered. Kyungsoo's first instinct is to greet him with a casual hello, which he mentally and repetitively practices. It's not every day he sees Jongin in a denim shirt and brown jeans. He looks breathtaking, clean, and young. Kyungsoo almost forgets Jongin is eight years older than him. Not like he’s age conscious.

With an adequate amount of courage, Kyungsoo trudges toward Jongin's direction. He’s not going to lie. Jongin looks even more attractive up-close. “Hi Mr. Kim,” he says, poker-faced. He cannot count the number of times he has rehearsed the proper way to pronounce hi without sounding robotic.

“You're five minutes late,” Jongin tells him.

Kyungsoo wants to shrink to the ground because he should not have spent five minutes deciding between hi and hello. “How do I make up for that?” he asks, immediately regretting the display of confidence.

Jongin rolls his eyes at him. “And you guaranteed me it would never happen again.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re excused, only because it’s your day off. But I need a return on investment. We pick the perfect present for Xiang and close the deal we've been working on for the past years. What do you say, Mr. Do?”

“I know what Mrs. Wu wants.”

“The rich have everything they want.”

“But they appreciate being remembered, don't they? Mr. Kim, you're a wealthy man. How often do you receive gifts?”

“I'm a busy man, too, Mr. Do. Do you expect me to keep a record of that information?”

“See? I bet people hardly send you gifts because they're stuck in the idea that you have the money to buy everything you want,” he says point-blank. Jongin's expression sours. “I’m sorry. I must have gone overboard.”

“No, it’s true,” Jongin dismisses. He heads to a jewelry shop, examining the items behind the glass shelves. Kyungsoo tails after him. “Do you think she'll like a pair of gold earrings?”

“I think she'll feel it's too much.”

“Silver?”

“Jewelry is quite popular to women, but it gives the same _oh_ impression.”

“Just tell me what she wants. I hate shopping and I can't stand strolling around a noisy, public place.”

“I’ve watched some of Mrs. Wu’s talk shows. She's a bit of a fashionista and she seems to enjoy dressing up,” Kyungsoo explains. “When we met with Mr. Wu, and you excused yourself to answer a call, he mentioned I had exactly the similar coat that Mrs. Wu had worn before. He also told me he'd love to buy her a custom-made coat but he didn't have a female perspective.”

“And you have a female perspective?” Jongin cocks an eyebrow.

“I have an eye for detail, I guess.”

“She's the same size as my sister.” Jongin walks out of the jewelry shop. He proceeds to the escalator.

The height difference forces Kyungsoo to tilt his chin and meet Jongin's gaze. “Great. It’ll be easier for us, then.”

“I haven't visited a mall in months,” Jongin says, gazing around the area, top to bottom, left and right.

“You're kidding.”

“No, I'm not.”

“The Wus must be special.”

“The Wus are the backbone of China's economy. They provide a long list of job opportunities and contribute significantly to the GDP. So, special is an understatement, Mr. Do.”

* * *

The waiter comes with the menu. “I'll have grilled skirt steak and a glass of cabernet sauvignon, please,” Jongin says. “Thank you.”

From the table, Kyungsoo can see the entrance where he observes couples coming and leaving. He peruses the menu. Regardless of what the restaurant offers, he’s ordering pasta marinara. It's a best-seller, not as expensive as the other dishes.

“I recommend you try the creamy baked salmon,” Jongin tells him.

“Perfect choice, sir,” the waiter chimes in. “Norwegian salmon steak baked in a special three-cheese blend and served with mashed potatoes.” He smiles at Kyungsoo.

“Okay,” Kyungsoo says.

“May I bring you something from the bar?” the waiter asks him.

“No, thank you.”

Jongin notices how Kyungsoo's fingertips are quietly tapping in a rhythm on the hard surface of the table. “You don't have to be nervous around me.” He leans back on the chair. The proximity gives him a better view and makes it easier to observe the place, and of course, Kyungsoo. “Do I intimidate you?” he asks.

“I don't think the right word is intimidate,” Kyungsoo says. “But isn't that what you want? To be feared rather than loved.”

Jongin chuckles a bit. “I’ve been told I’m intimidating. I like it that way and I will keep it that way.” He takes a sip of wine as the waiter brings the bottle of cabernet sauvignon and pours him a drink. “Did you watch the entire interview?”

“Yes, and I read the feature on you.”

“Were you convinced I had the best figure of a business leader?”

“Quite.”

“Give me more credit, Mr. Do. Does the title _Business Executive of the Year_ mean nothing to you?”

The spoken confidence astounds Kyungsoo, but he chooses to be honest. “You've earned it, Mr. Kim.”

“It's insulting that people assume I don't work hard because I seldom stay in the office beyond five. Success doesn't coincide with being busy, but with being productive. Would you rather have a lot of good projects or a few exceptional projects?”

Kyungsoo gauges the options. “I'd rather have a few exceptional projects.”

“Why?”

“Because it'd be more sensible to focus on opportunities with significant results? Why would I waste my time on something good if I had something exceptional?”

Jongin nods. “Fair point.” He pursues another gulp of wine. “I would have chosen the same.”

The dinner conversation revolves around the preparation for Yifan's invitation. Kyungsoo notes on his duties before leaving the country. “Since we're flying to Shanghai in less than a week, I'll have the report, including the database, accomplished in advance.”

“Don't prioritize the database. It can wait. I need the revised proposal to Mr. Wu. Hand it to me by Tuesday. You may check the details with Sunggyu.”

“Okay, anything else?”

Jongin finishes his steak. “Who's Lee Howon? He’s been flooding my email nonstop.”

“He's a reporter from Cho Ilsun. You have an interview with him on the 19th.”

“Cancel it.”

Kyungsoo's brow creases. “But we've sent them a confirmation. Don't you think it's unfair that they've patiently waited over a month?”

“You heard me, Mr. Do.”

“For what reason?” Kyungsoo presses, sounding frustrated.

“That reporter is sort of a rabble-rouser with the pieces he writes,” Jongin says, annoyed. “I don't have to explain further, do I?”

“No, Mr. Kim.”

* * *

“Welcome to Shanghai, Mr. Kim!” the young man in a pair of round spectacles greets. He graces Jongin with a broad smile and a courteous bow. “My name is Kun. I've been sent by Mr. Wu and I'm here to assist you. You'll be staying at the Ritz-Carlton. Please feel free to contact me if you'd like to arrange an itinerary after Mrs. Wu's talk show.”

“Thank you, Kun,” Jongin says.

From behind, Kyungsoo looms, pushing the luggage toward Jongin's direction.

“Oh, thank you, mister,” Kun tells Kyungsoo, maneuvering him to step aside and hand over the luggage.

The gesture surprises Kyungsoo. “It's okay. You don't have to do that.”

“This is Mr. Do,” Jongin introduces him to Kun. “He's with me and he'll take care of whatever I need for the rest of the trip.”

Kun stares between them. “We thought you were coming by yourself,” he says with sheer confusion. “We only booked one room.”

“No problem, I'll book a separate room for Mr. Do.”

“The Ritz-Carlton is fully booked.”

“I'll check in to a different hotel,” Kyungsoo jumps in to save Kun, sensing Jongin's impatience and disappointment. “Do you have a suggestion, Kun?”

Kun scratches his temple. “Apart from the Ritz-Carlton, the nearest hotel is rather far from the station. You'll have to take the subway back and forth.”

“I don't see a problem with that. Subways are delightful, aren't they?” Kyungsoo flashes them a tight-lipped smile.

“How inconvenient,” Jongin says with a huff. “You'll stay with me in the Ritz-Carlton. Don't make the situation even harder for you or me.”

“But Mr. Kim—”

“No more excuses. I'm tired. Kun, can you please lead the way?”

* * *

There is a heavy silence that settles in the room. It's a massive space with cozy nooks and modern fixtures, a coffee table that stands with splendidly proportioned cabriole legs, and paintings hanging side by side. Kyungsoo finds distraction in them, but the conscious effort doesn't change the fact that Jongin is there, basking in the ambient temperature.

For a moment, Kyungsoo toys with the idea of initiating a conversation that doesn't concern work, but as much as he wants to be comfortable with Jongin, he forbears to cross the boundary.

“Are you not going to put your bag down?” Jongin asks.

“Yeah, of course.” Kyungsoo places his bag on the L-shaped couch. “Do you mind if I go for a walk?”

“Not at all.”

Kyungsoo proceeds to the rooftop, which exhibits an open bar and overlooks the business district. Although unfamiliar to him, the city's skyline, adorned with a spectacular view of the Oriental Pearl Tower, brings him peace of mind. He exhales.

It's nighttime as Kyungsoo returns to the suite. He swings the door open, searching for Jongin, and before he can even draw more steps into the room, he chances on him, half-naked and damp from the shower. It takes Kyungsoo a glance to notice Jongin's sun-kissed skin and toned arms.

“You're back,” Jongin says, drying his hair with a cloth before sitting on the foot of the bed.

Kyungsoo's cheeks are the blooming color of roses. “Yeah, it's beautiful outside.” He avoids eye contact and pretends to rummage through his bag, searching for no particular item. “Have you seen Kun's email?” he asks, feigning nonchalance. “The questionnaire's done. I've saved it on my phone.”

“Come and read for me, then.” Jongin nods at the chair across him.

Without further ado, Kyungsoo obliges. He hates how his vantage point reveals the proportions of Jongin's body. He feels weirdly funny.

Jongin gazes back at him. “What are you waiting for?”

In a fast click, Kyungsoo launches the document containing the questionnaire. “What turns you on?” he starts, and Jongin sends him a vague look. Kyungsoo visibly blanches. “I swear it's written here!”

“You know what, I'll just do it myself.”

* * *

The lights are dim, but the curtains have been arrayed in such a vain attempt to filter the colorful glow of the skyscrapers illuminating the sky. Kyungsoo's eyes shift from Jongin sleeping on the bed to the digital clock morphing into twelve o'clock.

Kyungsoo stays in the dining area where he begins working on an unfinished presentation. Behind his laptop, he concentrates on finding both comfort and distraction, enough to set him free from his self-made thoughts.

“What are you doing?”

He hears a voice, and in a fleeting panic, Kyungsoo jolts upright. “I'm trying to beat the deadline.”

Jongin paws through the minibar and grabs a bottle of water. “And you cannot do it tomorrow?”

“It's for graduate school. I think better at night.”

“Let me see.” Jongin joins him, moving the laptop screen to his direction.

“Oh my god, please don't be brutal.”

“Leadership development and education? Interesting.”

“Actually, I'm not sure if I'll be able to pursue it. There are tons of research focus that interest me.”

“Mr. Do, remember, your master's thesis requires thorough, extensive literature review. Pick a topic you are passionate about. It'll save you from the burden of reading for compliance. If you're keen on leadership development and education, you can start with one important question that you want to ask me.” Jongin leans forward. “Does that make sense?”

“I'll consider it. Thank you, Mr. Kim.” Kyungsoo half-smiles.

“Get some sleep.”

* * *

The members of the production staff are scattered across the backstage, double-checking the equipment.

Jongin wears a sport jacket under a turtleneck sweater matching a pair of skinny jeans. He stands there like a figure of power, calm and composed, reeling in the cacophony of conversations.

“Are you ready?” Kyungsoo asks, appearing in front of him.

“Oh, I should be,” Jongin says as the music blasts from the speakers on stage.

Kyungsoo catches a lint stuck to Jongin's collar. “You have something.” He points at Jongin, and Jongin's expression clouds. “Let me just get it for you.” He plucks it off. “It's good. You should be fine.”

“Do I look okay?”

“Yes, Mr. Kim. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Tonight, I’d like to introduce a man with a lot of passion, story, and influence. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Mr. Kim Jongin,” Xiang introduces. The audience gives Jongin a round of applause as he ventures toward the center stage. “I can see you ladies fanning yourselves,” she jests.

“Hi,” Jongin greets, occupying the couch before smiling at the crowd.

“The magazines don't lie, do they? You look stunning, Mr. Kim. How are you?”

“I've never been more comfortable on cam. Thank you for inviting me here.”

“It’s a pleasure.” Xiang beams. “We have a few visitors there from Shanghai University of International Business and Economics. They are students aspiring to be part of your company. Are you currently hiring?”

“I cannot answer for Human Resources. But you're all welcome to try after your graduation.”

Xiang turns to the group of students. “Did you hear that? Stay in school and study harder. Who knows? You might score an interview with Mr. Kim in a year or two.” She winks at the young women dressed in matching blazer and slacks, then checks Jongin's reaction. “They want me to ask you if you have a girlfriend.”

The audience cheers in excitement. Meanwhile, Kyungsoo anticipates Jongin's response. He remembers Jennie and the encounter in the comfort room. If he could forget it in a blink of an eye, he would have done more than a squint.

The question doesn’t bother Jongin. He relaxes on his seat and glances at Kyungsoo from a distance. With confidence, he dodges the unnecessary interrogation. “What do you think, Xiang?”

“I think she's a lucky girl.”

“Or she doesn't exist.”

“Well-played, Mr. Kim.”

* * *

“Mr. Do, I'm glad you're here. I've been meaning to thank you for helping the crew today,” Yifan says. Jongin shoots him a tentative look. “One of our production staff had to leave due to a family emergency. Mr. Do volunteered to do a couple of tasks backstage, and he did well. Xiang's manager was pleased.”

“Really? I didn't know something like that happened.” Jongin glances at Kyungsoo.

“You were on stage, Mr. Kim,” Kyungsoo explains.

“Oh, Xiang loved your present, by the way. She cannot wait to wear it on her next show.” Yifan chuckles.

“Actually, Mr. Wu, Mr. Do chose that for her,” Jongin clarifies.

“I applaud your taste,” Yifan commends Kyungsoo. “Great job, Mr. Do, Mr. Kim. I'll see you two around, all right?” He bids farewell and proceeds to greet the new set of visitors.

“Well done,” Jongin tells Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo's ears burn red-hot at the compliment. “Cheers?” He initiates a toast, and Jongin accepts it, clinking glasses with him. “To more successes,” he mutters, hoping Jongin doesn't hear him.

Jongin smiles.


	4. As Hard As Nails

“Quite impressive.”

Jungsuk flips the pages of the document, scanning the texts from top to bottom before nodding in satisfaction. “It's doable, but you have to be more specific with some of your statements,” he tells Kyungsoo. “Your motivation should be evident. Why is your research crucial to investigate? What do you gain from it?”

“I appreciate your feedback, Mr. Jo,” Kyungsoo says. “I admit I've kind of muddled my way through it.”

“You have to pay close attention to your introduction, Kyungsoo. It's easy to notice an author’s proficiency in a subject matter. I suggest you take your time writing. Enjoy the process. Don't rush it.” Jungsuk smiles at him. “Your work, as expected, has potential, and if you need advice, my door is open.” He hands the document back to Kyungsoo.

“I must've interrupted you on your break, though.”

“What can I say? You're one of the students I admire.”

Kyungsoo's mouth curves into a sheepish grin. “To be fair, I liked your discussion earlier, too, not because you complimented me but because it was a thought-provoking presentation. I think I'll finish your readings in one sitting.”

“Then, I'll have to challenge you in a conversation next class.”

“Sounds like a deal to me.”

* * *

“Stop getting crumbs all over my couch!” Jongdae whines as he treads into the living room and serves an ice bucket of beer. He tosses another huge bag of chips on Chanyeol's lap.

Chanyeol scoots, leaving enough space for Jongdae to sit. “I'll help you clean later.”

“So, I have a job interview on Monday.”

“Is the dream finally happening?”

“Yeah, I'm nervous as hell,” he says, but Jongdae's demeanor doesn't seem to project in the manner of stress. He rests a leg over the coffee table. “Whether I pass or not, I'll never turn back. Only forwards.”

“Best of luck.” Kyungsoo claps a hand on Jongdae's shoulder.

“You're amazing.” Chanyeol flashes him an affiliative smile.

“How about a toast?” Jongdae offers, raising his beer.

“To future reporter Kim Jongdae,” Kyungsoo says, and they clink bottles in the air, cheering for Jongdae's career. “By the way, how did your date with Jinah go?” Kyungsoo asks Chanyeol after a beat.

“It was fun except that she couldn't stop rambling about how she used to have a crush on Kim Jongin,” Chanyeol says bitterly. “Why would she have a crush on an egocentric, privileged capitalist?”

“Dude, what do you expect? He may be a capitalist but he's hot and rich, and sadly, some girls are attracted to that breed of man.” Jongdae shrugs, taking a big gulp of his beer. “I'd be head over heels for him too if I sucked dick.” He simpers, earning an eye roll from Kyungsoo.

“Thanks for indirectly telling me that I'm ugly,” Chanyeol surmises.

“Chanyeol, please, don't host a pity party for yourself. You're handsome, smart, and talented. What makes you think you're incomparable to Kim Jongin? He doesn't even have your beautiful eyes.”

Chanyeol reddens at Kyungsoo's compliment. “I have beautiful eyes?” he echoes, questioning.

Jongdae shakes his head with stifled laughter, and Kyungsoo sends him a warning glance. He tries hard to keep a straight face. “Well, honestly, I'm not a fan of your eyes, Chanyeol. But I envy your guitar skills, business acumen, and your tidy, concave armpits.”

“What?” Chanyeol and Kyungsoo blurt out in unison, both frowning at Jongdae.

“Regardless, Kyungsoo's right. You're a fucking badass.”

“Why can't I win Jinah's heart, then?”

“Maybe Jinah needs more time to decide,” Kyungsoo says, hoping it comforts Chanyeol. “You'll get there. Eventually.”

“How do I know that she's into me?”

“You can tell a person is interested by the way they look at you. Prolonged eye contact and subtle physical touches are some pretty clear signals,” Jongdae says. He turns to Kyungsoo for confirmation.

Kyungsoo's eyes widen with uncertainty. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you have a fat crush on Professor Jo.”

“I don't!”

“Are you serious? Professor Jo? He's like forty!” Chanyeol guffaws.

“Dude, I bet you a hundred bucks he feels the same for Kyungsoo,” Jongdae adds.

Kyungsoo whacks him with a throw pillow. “Come on, stop being an ass. He's married.”

“Wrong, he's widowed,” Chanyeol corrects him.

“And everything about him is big.” Jongdae smirks.

Kyungsoo downs his beer. “You guys drive me crazy.”

* * *

It's a chilly morning, with no visible sunshine on the sky. As raindrops fall from the clouds, trickling down the windowpanes, Kyungsoo sprints to the entrance. He proceeds with the meetings that require immediate scheduling, then generates the reports requested by Jongin, including the senior managers in the division.

By two o'clock, Kyungsoo's eyes feel hot from overexposure from the computer screen. He heads for the cafe and bumps into a familiar man.

“Hello, I remember you,” the man says, beaming at him. “Kyungsoo, right? You're the intern.”

“Actually, I'm not an intern, sir.” Kyungsoo gives him a minuscule smile. Minseok apologizes to him with a mixture of delight and embarrassment. “I'm Mr. Kim's secretary. _Executive_.” He hates how often he stumbles over the job title. Not that it's a tongue-twister or an expletive of sorts.

“I should have had the decency to ask. Let me make it up to you and have coffee with me.”

“That's not necessary, sir.”

“Please, call me Minseok hyung. Everybody calls me hyung because I'm the oldest member of the board. And I insist. Come on, go save us a table. I'll get Juhyun moving with some latte.”

Kyungsoo picks a spot near the floor-to-ceiling window that is the artistic center of the aesthetically designed space. The cafe is packed with groups of men and women from different departments. Surprisingly, he remembers a few faces from the banquet.

“Handsome, isn't he?” Minseok waves a hand at the man in a gray overcoat. “That's the ever clever Sehun.” He slides into the seat, then pushes Kyungsoo's coffee across the table. “So, you work for Mr. Kim. How has been your stay? Must be tough love.”

“Fine. I guess I just haven't seen the worst yet.”

“The worst situations are often manageable. They teach you how to live.”

“By worst, you mean catastrophic?”

Minseok stirs the cup of coffee as he adds a teaspoon of creamer. “We've survived numbing catastrophes, and guess who leads the people in front of every disaster?” He stares back at Kyungsoo. “Mr. Kim.”

“I've got to admit his passion is contagious,” Kyungsoo says.

“He tops the hierarchy for a reason. Mr. Kim is younger than me, but I can't express how much I respect him for building an illustrious career.”

“You seem to know him well.”

Minseok grins, nodding. “I've watched him grow into the successful, calculating businessman he is today. Been here since the time of his father. I'm that old.”

Kyungsoo's brow scrunches. “I swear you look like you're only in your early thirties. How old are you?”

“It's a long-kept secret. The trick to a full, happy life is eating your veggies, loving with no shame, and of course, my personal favorite, pretending you don’t age.” Minseok chuckles with him. He takes a sip of his coffee. “So, am I forgiven for mistaking you as an intern? Do I get to befriend the boss's executive secretary?”

“What do you mean? I don't just drink coffee with strangers.” Kyungsoo returns the smile. “On a more serious note, thank you for the treat, hyung.”

“You’re welcome. I hope you find home here, Kyungsoo.”

* * *

For Kyungsoo, having spent a productive day puts him in a better mood, the rush of determination running full force toward a specific goal, the sense of satisfaction from the challenging experience, and the burst of confidence reminding him that he can brave through more obstacles.

With thrilling excitement, Kyungsoo rushes to share the good news with Jongin. He files into Jongin's office, but before he can even greet him, he finds the executive in a heated argument with a woman. Kyungsoo stands there, paralyzed and awkward, wishing to vanish.

“What the fuck, Jongin. You do realize you've fired at least five people in just a month, don't you?” the woman chides. She's aristocratically beautiful. For someone whose height barely reaches Jongin's shoulders, she talks tough. “The Human Resources department is about to revolt, and I think I'm coming with them. For real.” She charges toward Jongin's desk, like a tiny, furious meerkat. She demands an explanation, but Jongin doesn't speak a word. “What are you up to? Care to explain your behavior?”

Jongin's eyes concentrate harder on the laptop screen. “What do you want to hear from me?” he asks her. “I'm busy.”

The woman notices Kyungsoo, and finally, lets the situation slide. She smiles at him. “One second,” she promises Kyungsoo, then turns back to Jongin. “I'm serious, Jongin. I've got work to do. Quit acting like a five-year-old pulling ridiculous temper tantrums. Why do you have to be such a child?”

“You're in my office. Tone it down.”

“Oh, god, how insufferable can you be?”

“Not as insufferable as you.”

She grunts, then leaves, heels clanking against the floor.

Jongin's expression stays stoic, but it takes him a minute to stop tapping a foot.

“I'll come back later,” Kyungsoo says, sensing Jongin’s ravaged temper.

“It's fine,” Jongin says. “It's just my sister. You'll get used to her yelling in my office.” He rises to his feet. “What do you have there?” He eyes the envelope in Kyungsoo's hands.

“A few papers from Mr. Wu.” Kyungsoo approaches him.

The suppressed rage on Jongin's face fades. “I've been expecting it. Well done.” He gives him back the envelope as he reaches the end of the page. “Anything else?”

Kyungsoo hesitates but immediately realizes Jongin is waiting for him to speak. He goes for it. “This may sound irrelevant, totally trivial, and I don't think it matters that much to you, but I've received positive feedback from my professor. Thank you for the advice. It helped me in writing my research proposal.”

“Really?” He sounds more amazed than uninterested. “That's fantastic. Does that mean you've finalized your research focus?”

“Yes, although it needs a couple of revisions.”

“Interesting. I'd like to read your work.”

“What? Oh, no, I can't fit that in your schedule.”

“You heard me, Mr. Do.”

* * *

Board meetings are a battleground where intellectuals and pseudo-intellectuals settle scores. On a quiet afternoon, the expression on the face of the attendees is difficult to paint.

Kyungsoo surveys the area and finds Jongin striding down the glass corridor that runs the length of the floor. He pushes the door open as Jongin enters the massive conference room with a commanding view of the city. It’s filled with people from several divisions. Everybody stands up to greet the boss while Kyungsoo follows, handing him a sealed folder before sitting in silence.

Jongin occupies the head of the table. His posture straightens and his eyes remain intense even at rest.

“I've been told that the plan to build the energy and utilities branch is out,” Jongin begins. The members have been informed beforehand. A lot of them, however, look incredibly alarmed as they exchange brief, knowing glances. “Can someone please elaborate on the problem here?”

“There has been a leak in the press,” Jessica says. She's a gorgeous brunette, dressed in a power suit, with long wavy hair, neatly threaded eyebrows, and a cherry red lipstick. “The plan to build the energy and utilities branch does exist. We have finalized the details, including the date of construction and the opening. The announcement, however, should have been publicized with extreme caution considering the implications involved.” Her expression doesn't reveal much, but her voice flows with conviction. “There are at least a hundred families in the area, and because of how sudden journalists took it to social media, we are receiving tons of backlash, even threats.”

“If I may add, the project may result in the destruction of the tea farmland, which, as you know, provides livelihood to many families,” Sehun says. He's a respected member of the board, with an established career in the industry through years and years of experience. “Mr. Lee and Mr. Kim have instructed us to put the project on hold.”

“These are facts, but I'm more concerned with who did it,” Jongin tells them, eyeing Jessica, then Sehun. “It's disturbing to know that someone violated the confidentiality of the project.”

There's a heavy, anticipatory silence. “Jongin, your drama means nothing,” Hoon says, visibly annoyed. He's a man in late forties, with a critical eye and a perpetual frown. He speaks like a monotonous audiobook but doesn't seem to care about how he frames an opinionated statement. “What is your purpose? Do you want to aggravate the situation and flaunt your power in front of your constituents? The issue could have been emailed or cascaded to the concerned departments – risk management, public relations, etcetera. I can enumerate the entire list for you.” He casts him a contemptuous gaze. “Everyone denied it. Were you actually expecting a confession?”

“Denying it is not enough,” Jongin says sternly. “I want to know who talked to the press.”

“And then what? Punch them in the face?” Hoon taunts. He makes no secret of how he reviles Jongin's authority. “The word is out. Does it matter? You can consider it an opportunity to come clean and lure the media. It's not a completely terrible thing.”

“I disagree with you.” Despite the derogatory comments about him or the cutting things he keeps hearing from others, Jongin doesn’t give him the satisfaction of being offended. He respects Hoon because his father regards him in the industry.

Hoon's animosity roots from the fact that Jongin has been elected as Chief Executive Officer of the committee and is thriving at the helm, instead of him. It angers Hoon to see Jongin leading.

“We have better things to do, Jongin. Stop beating around the bush and tell us your plan.”

“Mr. Sung, you sound confident. I think you're underestimating the risks associated with the problem. Why don't you suggest a solution? I'm all ears.”

Hoon scowls. “Don't be ridiculous. It's Jessica's job.” He looks over at Jessica with disgust. “Months ago, you entertained the press as though you were a star,” Hoon says. “You love being in the spotlight, don't you?”

Jessica goes cold with fury, but she keeps her cool in front of Hoon. “I did respond to them, but it wasn't as detailed as your accusations to me.”

“What did you tell them?” Jongin asks.

“I told them we'd love to introduce another branch in the future. No more. No less.”

“And what happened after that?”

“Never heard from them again.”

“So, who fed them the information?”

“Sungmin hasn't been here for days,” Sehun cuts in.

“Lee Sungmin?” Jongin verifies, and Jessica nods. “Have you tried calling his wife?”

“No, we're not in good terms. She’s a little territorial and she gets jealous easily.”

Jongin's jaw clenches. “Mr. Do, I need you to contact my driver before three.”

Kyungsoo says, “Yes, Mr. Kim, I will.”

* * *

“Hello, what can I do for you?” Sungmin’s wife greets as she opens the door. She is a gravid woman in her seventh month, has a guileless face, honey brown eyes, and a calm demeanor.

Jongin bows politely, and so does Kyungsoo behind him. “Hi, I'm Kim Jongin. May I please speak with Lee Sungmin?”

The woman seems to remember him. “Mr. Kim?” she asks. “I think Sungmin has mentioned you before. Please come in and take a seat. I'm sorry it's quite messy around. The kids have been playing the whole afternoon.” She gathers the toys scattered on the floor, almost tripping over a doll. “Can I get you and your friend something to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

“We’re fine, thank you,” Jongin says.

“Mom, who is it?” a young girl sashays into the room, hugging a stuffed unicorn plush. She hops into the couch and scoots near Kyungsoo, looking at him from head to toe. “Hello, I’m Ari.”

“Hi, Ari,” Kyungsoo says with a smile.

“This is Sparkles.” Ari waves the unicorn at him.

“Sparkles is an adorable name. Her wings are very pretty, too.”

“Do you want to play with me? What’s your name?”

“Honey, what's going on here?” Sungmin hobbles into the room, shocked to see Jongin. “Mr. Kim?”

“Mr. Kim?” Ari echoes. “Your name is Mr. Kim! My uncle Heechul is a Kim, too.”

“Ari,” the woman chides. “Why don't you go watch some cartoons with your brother?” She maneuvers Ari to come with her, sharing a look of recognition with Sungmin.

Sungmin settles into the opposite chair. There is a gloomy sense of aloofness in his eyes. He's trapped now that Jongin has come to confront him. “Why are you here?” he asks Jongin.

“Your boss tells me you haven't reported to the office for three days,” Jongin says, anticipating a response, but Sungmin ignores the claim. “Did you know an insider leaked confidential information to the press? It took PR a busting headache to resolve the issue.”

Sungmin's eyes fixate on Jongin. “Are you accusing me of something?”

“Am I?”

“Mr. Kim, you do realize the press hates your guts, don't you? You've come to the wrong place. You should be out there confronting them.”

“It doesn't work that way, Sungmin. I’m not stupid. I may not be the best businessman, but I know a thing or two about betrayal.”

Sungmin's expression hardens. “What are you suggesting? You don't care about your people. You live by your rules. You get betrayed because you deserve it.”

Jongin laughs sardonically. “That's a ridiculous way to justify your actions.”

“Stop blaming me.”

“Your team is under scrutiny for violating the company policy. It seems like nobody has the balls to be accountable for the situation. I cannot afford to trust a group of people that stab me behind my back, and don't you think it's easier to replace them?”

There is a beat of silence. Sungmin pales as he realizes his wife is listening to the conversation. “The manager you hired for the team? He couldn't even appreciate the efforts I did, called me an idiot every single day. I had a reason, Mr. Kim.”

“And your reason gave you the license to sabotage the company? Save it.” Jongin rises, ready to leave with Kyungsoo.

Sungmin tails behind him. “You don't understand!” he yells.

“I've heard enough. I’m not interested in your explanation.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“I expect you to come clean to your teammates tomorrow.”

“For what? It's your fault! I wish I'd never have to see you again.”

“You won't. You're fired, Sungmin.”

* * *

It's a quiet ride from Sungmin's house back to the headquarters. Kyungsoo curls against the window, watching the streets, trapped in confusion. Finally, he speaks. “Did you really have to fire him on the spot?”

“I made a decision.”

“Your decision was misplaced.”

Jongin huffs. “Misplaced?” he repeats. “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

It takes Kyungsoo a few seconds to process Jongin’s response. He cannot believe what he's hearing. “So, it's true, that you're unforgiving, and cruel.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Where's your empathy? You left the man with no job in front of his wife. His pregnant wife. Mr. Kim, you could have been more sensitive. Not everyone is as strong as you.” Kyungsoo's words have an air of finality, and no matter how hard he rails against them, Jongin's defiance doesn't change his mind.

The car stops by the curb. “What do you know, Do Kyungsoo? You're just my secretary.” He hops out of the vehicle.

Kyungsoo's resentment festers in him. He follows Jongin. “I'm _just_ your secretary?” he says, simmering with anger. “Does that feed your ego? Does that make you feel more of a man?”

Jongin turns around, and with baleful, staring eyes, he faces him. “You're tough, aren't you?” There is heat in Jongin's voice. “It's infuriating.”

He has hit the mark, but Kyungsoo doesn't waver. “I should've believed them.” He feels a crack in his ribcage as though pieces of glass shards struck his chest. “You're a sick human being.”

“Oh, sure, I am. Not too obvious, isn't it?” A momentary silence ensues. “Are you done being mad, Mr. Do?” he asks, to which Kyungsoo swallows thickly and looks up in the sky, trying to fight the tears in his eyes.

“You're heartless, Mr. Kim. I hope you get what you deserve.”


	5. Having the Blues

It's a terrible idea to leave home at such a disoriented state, but Kyungsoo doesn't have the energy to worry about the penguin print pajamas he’s wearing to the laundromat. He needs to bring the dirty clothes for wash and dry before he drowns in a pool of academic journals.

As he traverses the streets, Kyungsoo's stomach twists into knots. He promises to schedule a day for grocery shopping and cusses at how he’s beginning to have a difficult time juggling work and school.

Kyungsoo finishes as quickly as possible. He catches a familiar voice from a distance while he’s about to cross the street. For a moment, he hesitates, pretending to be obscure in the public eye and unavailable to any form of human interaction. But the second time he hears his name, Kyungsoo is left with no choice. He turns around and finds Junmyeon smiling fondly at him.

“Hi, it's good to see you,” Junmyeon says.

“Yeah, I'd tell you the same if I weren't in my pajamas,” Kyungsoo quips. It might be an embarrassing experience to stand like a disheveled porcupine in front of an attractive, well-dressed man, but at the very least, he looks decent and doesn't walk the streets naked.

Junmyeon chuckles with amusement. “They must be super comfortable to wear,” he comments, and Kyungsoo agrees. “I hope I'm not interrupting you from doing your morning routine. Are you in a hurry?”

“No, it's all right. I actually went to the laundromat.”

“Ah, I need some coffee. Have you had your breakfast?”

“I haven't, and yeah, I think I need some coffee, too. Do you want to go with me? I mean, really. I'm in my pajamas, but who cares? I'm hungry. And caffeine-deprived.”

Junmyeon nods, laughing. “Come on, Mr. Pajamas. Let's get that caffeine fix.”

They arrive at a sandwich joint where they order bacon cheese bagels with coffee. In a few seconds, Junmyeon initiates a conversation about how work and school have been to Kyungsoo. He listens to him intently, understanding every word, every sentence, fascinated with how Kyungsoo's expression naturally changes in a minute of talking.

Kyungsoo bares no shame in storytelling. He admits that Jongin is a ray of moody sunshine, but in an instant, tells Junmyeon he admires Jongin in a way – something he cannot say to Chanyeol, Jongdae, or Ryeowook. He shares a couple of interesting stories, one of which is buying a plant out of impulse and in hopes of feeling less miserable back in college. Junmyeon cannot help but giggle.

“I wish I had you as a classmate,” Junmyeon says, grinning.

“I’d drag you to every coffee shop if I had you as a classmate.”

“That, I’d probably not protest.”

“What do you really do, Junmyeon?” Kyungsoo asks after a beat.

“Please. I don't wanna bore you to death.”

Kyungsoo's eyes narrow at Junmyeon. “You're not part of the mafia, are you? You've never mentioned your job to me. Are you on a break or something?”

“No, I'm not part of the mafia. I just prefer being casual.” Junmyeon pursues a bite of his bagel.

“Casual,” Kyungsoo repeats, suspecting. “What does that even mean? You know I work for the Kims and that I’m struggling with the bone-crushing pressure of adulthood. What else do you need to know?”

Junmyeon leans in, then wipes the corners of his mouth with the napkin. “Well, I need to know if you’re free Friday night.”

Kyungsoo stops mid-chewing. “Why?”

“There'll be a theatrical show in Myeongdong where I've been meaning to invite you to. It's far from butt-numbing, I promise. Not your usual tedious seminar. You’ll love it.”

“I'm not busy.”

Junmyeon stares at him, hopeful. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course I'll go with you.”

* * *

There are unread emails glaring at Kyungsoo, but none of them is from Jongin. It has been days of avoiding. He decides to declutter his inbox and clicks the most recent message.

As expected, it's another scheduled meeting with a foreign partner, except that the sender is Taemin. He squints at the screen, reading the email word per word before reaching the bottom of the page. “Chief Operating Officer,” the signature reads in bold characters. _You've got to be shitting me_ , Kyungsoo thinks as he realizes that he may have revealed his unpleasant encounters with Jongin to a c-suite executive.

The sudden knock on the door startles Kyungsoo. Speaking of the devil, Taemin trudges into the room, offering him a cup of latte. “I’ve heard from Minseok hyung that you accept coffee as an apology,” he says. “Is that my email?” He peeks at Kyungsoo’s laptop. “Surprise, I guess?”

“Mr. Lee,” Kyungsoo begins. “Does Mr. Kim know–?”

“I don't remember telling him.”

Kyungsoo's face drains of color. “Oh, god, what do you mean you don't remember?”

Taemin laughs. “Calm down! I've never mentioned you to him. He's always busy.” He sits on the chair, pushing the drink across Kyungsoo's desk. “Does he still shun you? Like a lint?” he asks, and Kyungsoo cringes at the memory of him describing his frustrations at the banquet. “You have to stop worrying too much about your relationship with Mr. Kim. I'm sure you'll get along eventually.”

“Yeah, eventually.” Kyungsoo heaves a sigh. “I'm surprised he hasn't fired me yet.”

“Mr. Do, you're capable. Your determination to be better reminds me of my younger self.” Taemin smiles. “Mr. Kim may not be as vocal or expressive as me, but I bet he appreciates you.”

“I called him heartless.”

“It was brave of you.”

For a second, Kyungsoo shuts his eyes in pure embarrassment. “He told you?”

“Well, kind of. We met a few days ago to discuss Sungmin's case. He was quite invested in having Sungmin's package released as soon as possible.”

“That's wonderful. I just can't imagine how difficult it is for Sungmin's wife.”

“She'll be fine. Mr. Kim is willing to lend some help to make sure she doesn't suffer because of the circumstances.”

Kyungsoo nods. “I'm relieved to hear that.”

“Do you need help with your Mr. Kim situation?”

“I'll take care of it.”

* * *

“See you tomorrow,” Kyungsoo says as he waves a hand at a female employee. He saunters into the empty lobby, ready to leave the headquarters, but right before he reaches the exit, Kyungsoo's phone rings. “Hello?” he greets the caller. For a second, he stops on his tracks, and with aching, smarting eyes, he glances around, his lips quivering. “I'll be there.”

Kyungsoo bolts out of the building. It's almost nine-thirty in the evening, and the streets are practically bare, with no public vehicles passing by. Kyungsoo's breaths shudder as he runs back inside and deliberates who to contact. He searches the area in hopes of chancing upon a colleague until he spots Jongin in the elevator hall.

“Mr. Kim!” Kyungsoo shouts, rushing toward Jongin. “Wait!”

Jongin catches him and clicks the button before the door closes. “What are you doing?” he asks, baffled.

“Are you leaving?” Kyungsoo's voice halts. He feels the urge to apologize to Jongin, but he saves it for later.

“Obviously.”

“I know you're pissed at me, and I get it, but I need your help. Please take me to the hospital.”

Jongin's gaze clouds in thought. “What in the world is happening, Mr. Do?”

There is a hard sense of dread that hits Kyungsoo at the core. He exhales. “My grandmother passed away,” he manages, trying not to crumble. His grip on his phone tightens. “There are no cabs outside. I have to be there.” He looks Jongin in the eye. “Please.”

“I'll drive.”

They reach the hospital in fifteen minutes. Jongin stays by the entrance and watches Kyungsoo dash into the lobby, where Yixing has been waiting.

“Hyung, I'm sorry,” Kyungsoo says, sitting on the plastic benches.

There are no words to describe Yixing's grief – the fresh tears, the raw emotions. He sobs into Kyungsoo's chest, devastated and distraught, choking on words and sentences. “I shouldn’t have left,” he says, the pain ripping through him. “I went as fast as I could, but it was too late. She didn't make it. The doctors said she kept calling my name.” Yixing's fist clutches Kyungsoo's coat. “I failed her.”

Kyungsoo holds him in silence, between recovering breaths, rubbing Yixing's back and mumbling _it's okay_ again and again. “I'm here,” he tells him. “She's all right now.”

The world turns into a blur. Everything seems to have darkened at the moment.

* * *

It’s past midnight. There is a smattering of stars across the sky as Kyungsoo exits the establishment, the harsh bite of cold air blowing right through layers of clothes, with no hint of warmth except for knotted fingers and feathered bangs. The roads are barren, too quiet, too dark, but before he can even leave, he notices a figure emerging from the shadows.

“Mr. Kim? Why are you still here?”

“I thought you’d need company,” Jongin says. “It’s freezing.” He surveys the area. “How about we go grab some coffee?”

For a moment, Kyungsoo hesitates, thinking about the inconvenience he might have caused Jongin. It almost brings him to tears. “Mr. Kim, you really don’t have to. I shouldn’t have dragged you in a situation you had nothing to do with in the first place.”

“I would never agree on something I didn’t want to do.”

The café is empty except for the lady behind the counter. It glows a hue of gingerbread brown with the sound of a ballad coming from the kitchen. Kyungsoo inhales the aroma of brewed coffee as he saves a table for him and Jongin, finding comfort under sallow lights and in the fact that he’s not alone. He cannot imagine going home only to sleep with a broken heart. He needs some sort of distraction, and maybe, he needs Jongin.

A few minutes later, Jongin serves the steaming mugs of coffee, carefully pushing one to Kyungsoo's direction before occupying the seat.

“Make yourself warm,” Jongin says. “I'm sorry about what happened.”

Kyungsoo's throat prickles. “Zhang Meihui was a compassionate, generous woman who worked in the hospital tirelessly. She served as a nurse for over thirty years, cared for a lot of people, and like a mother, she looked after me and made sure I had more than enough when life took everyone away from me,” he says with a downcast gaze. The weight of the situation hangs heavy on Kyungsoo's shoulders. “She was my light.”

He counts five seconds of absolute silence. “Thank you, Mr. Kim, and I'm sorry for being an ass to you. I shouldn't have judged your decisions. I'll do better.”

“I know. Don't mention it. I shouldn’t have been brash to you, too.” Jongin notices how Kyungsoo's fingers are tightly curled around the mug. “You're not alone, Mr. Do. I understand where you're coming from.” He pauses to meet Kyungsoo eye to eye. “When I was your age, I lost my father. He suffered from brain cancer and left me with such an overwhelming responsibility of running the business.”

Kyungsoo is rendered speechless. He stiffens at the information, frozen with the thought that he may have committed a grave mistake of criticizing Jongin. He fumbles for words, but they remain stuck in Kyungsoo’s tongue.

“He was born for the world. He started from scratch and taught by example. His faithfulness to his job earned him a name in the industry. He had enemies, but no matter how vicious they played him, he refused to fight back. I got angry one time. He said he'd never raise a hand against them because it meant putting me, my sister, and my mother in danger. I learned the reality from him. You could throw your best shot at a game and still get hated for it. And he was right.” Jongin expels an audible sigh. “I'm rambling. You know you can tell me to shut up.”

“No, it's okay. I mean, I think you've never really shared something like that with me. I'm quite touched.”

Jongin grins the slightest bit. “You wouldn't believe it, but the company's earnings plummeted to a large fraction after father's death. We worked under aggressive changes to deal with the situation. I barely slept at night.”

“I'm sure your father is proud of you, Mr. Kim. You've made it. Big.” Kyungsoo's posture relaxes. The first sip of coffee gives him the calm he needs.

“How about you? Where are your parents?” Jongin asks.

There is a short pause. “I lost them before I graduated from college. Car accident. My older brother was there, too. I cried on my couch for a week. It was exhausting.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I'll never understand why the kindest people have to leave so soon.”

“It's chaos out there. I think the kindest people have to leave so soon because the world doesn't deserve them.”

“Maybe.” Kyungsoo's heart aches at the memory. He sits in a minute of comfortable silence. “I moved to a different apartment after the funeral, hoping I'd be able to forget and heal,” he says, drawing attention. “I met there the sweetest neighbors, Yixing hyung and grandma Meihui.”

“Living is pretty brutal, huh.”

“Harsh truth.”

“You keep your head up, Mr. Do. You'll get through it.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Ask away.”

“Do you enjoy your job?”

Jongin feigns a groan of exasperation. “It's called a job for a reason. Jobs aren't fun.”

“Point taken. No offense.” Kyungsoo returns the smile.

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.” Jongin glances at his wristwatch. “It's late, and I'm not that _heartless_ to keep you up all night.”

* * *

Kyungsoo dials Junmyeon's number, but the line is busy and prompts him to leave a voicemail. “Hi Junmyeon, I'm sorry but I don't think I'll be able to come with you to the show,” he says softly. “I promise I'll make it up to you soon. Take care.” He sends the message.

He adheres to a strict and busy routine, hurling himself at work. Ryeowook, despite being out of town, has been consistently in touch with him, reminding Kyungsoo it’s okay to cry and grieve, that his emotions are completely valid and should never be questioned.

Kyungsoo's attention shifts as he hears a knock on the door. He’s expecting a visit from the senior sales manager, but he sees Jongin instead, standing in the doorway, staring straight at him. He stays still, and before he can even greet him, Jongin asks, “Do you want to go for a walk?”

It's almost night, and like tomorrow’s promise, the sunrays cosset behind the clouds with hues of red, violet, and indigo. The trees have rolled into silhouettes, their leaves skittering across the ground.

“You okay?” Jongin asks.

Kyungsoo just nods, letting silence ensue. “No, not really,” he says as he remembers the last time he had a conversation with Meihui. Her smile has never been heartbreaking to reminisce. “I feel betrayed. The doctors said she could live up to two years, and I believed that. It's only been nine months, and now, she's gone.” He swallows back his tears. “She deserved another day. She could have stayed a little longer. Why didn’t I visit her more often?”

Jongin puts a comforting hand at the small of Kyungsoo's back, caressing him in slow, gentle strokes.

“I'm sorry,” Kyungsoo keeps mumbling. “I’m not making any sense.” He sniffs, quietly sobbing.

“Mr. Do, I know you're going through a tough time, but it's not your fault. Don't be too hard on yourself.”

* * *

“Mr. Kim is not around.” A young lady stops him from entering Jongin’s office.

Kyungsoo stares at the intern in confusion. It’s almost embarrassing that he’s nursing two cups of latte, one for him, one for Jongin on another headache-causing Monday morning. “What do you mean he’s not around?”

“He’s at home, running a fever. I’ve been instructed to give you some important documents that he needs to sign within the day.” She hands him a sealed envelope.

“Oh, do I sign them for him? Are these the proposals to the Fukuoka institutions?” Kyungsoo inspects the item, noticing a written address.

“No, Mr. Do, you have to bring them to him personally, and yes, you’re right about Fukuoka.”

“Personally,” Kyungsoo echoes, still puzzled. “You mean, like, to his house?”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Kim’s driver will be here to collect you by eleven o’clock.”

What a great time to be alive, indeed. Kyungsoo is officially back to reality.

* * *

The chauffeur wheels around a corner, then parks in the driveway of a large, stunning house, where Jongin has lived for the past years. It's a quiet neighborhood, with lavish residences and tall trees.

Kyungsoo heads for the door.

The housekeeper greets him with a welcoming smile. She’s a short woman with a mane of gray hair. “Hello, how can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Mr. Kim.”

“You must be Do Kyungsoo. Please come in. Mr. Kim is expecting you.”

Mira ushers Kyungsoo to Jongin's office. She knocks, informing him that he has a visitor before leaving.

Kyungsoo stands a few feet from Jongin's desk as he finds him working behind a laptop. It's almost awkward for him to look at Jongin in gray sweatpants and a hoodie, but Kyungsoo musters ample courage, remembering to be professional and grounded. “I'm here to have a few papers signed,” he says, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, I see you,” is Jongin's curt response. He concentrates harder on the screen, typing visibly faster as if beating a deadline. “Mr. Do, stop staring at me and take a seat.”

It embarrasses Kyungsoo for a good minute. He sits on the ottoman chair, then gazes around the room, searching for some sort of distraction. There are shelves arrayed in the corner, filled with books of different sizes and colors, as well as a heap of newspapers. The space is free from clutter, and with vintage-inspired fixtures and muted lighting, it creates an ambiance that sparks productivity.

Jongin steals a glance at Kyungsoo. “You like it?”

“What?” Kyungsoo's eyes turn to Jongin. He blinks vacantly at him.

“The room. My mother designed it.”

“Really? She must have a creative mind.”

“She's an interior designer.”

“Oh.” Kyungsoo gives the room another once-over. “I like it a lot,” he says, smiling modestly. “It's peaceful and motivating. I'm sure you work well here.”

“I do, but it feels different from being in the headquarters.” Jongin shuts his laptop off. He grabs a pen and motions Kyungsoo to come forward. “How is it going?” he asks, leafing through the pages of the document.

“I'm almost done with the report. I'll email it to you as soon as it's been double-checked.”

“And you?”

“Me?” Kyungsoo falters, receiving a nod from Jongin. “I'm fine.” He fights the urge to elaborate further. It has been weeks since the funeral, and to a certain degree, he’s still coping, but with Ryeowook's support, Kyungsoo feels better, to say the least. Inspite of the hectic schedule, Ryeowook sends him boxes and boxes of delicious mochi to comfort him. It’s the sweetest thing he has genuinely appreciated in a while. “What about you?” Kyungsoo's voice is nonchalant. “I've heard you're sick.”

Jongin stares up at him. “Are you worried about me?” The question catches Kyungsoo off guard. Jongin cracks a laugh. “I'm just messing with you. You're so serious.” He hands the document back to Kyungsoo, then folds his arms across his chest. “Do I look sick?”

Kyungsoo briefly touches Jongin's forehead with the back of his hand. Jongin doesn't move a muscle and makes a gagging sound, like a muffled cough. “Mr. Kim, you have a slight fever, but you'll live,” Kyungsoo says. “You should rest until tomorrow. Mr. Lee won't be happy to see you overworking yourself.”

There is a knock on the door, and before Kyungsoo can open it, Mira peeks. “Mr. Kim, you have a call.”

“Who is it?”

“A girl named Jennie. She says you haven't been answering your phone, and it's urgent.”

“Tell her I'll call her back later.”

“Yes, sir.”

_Of course_ , _it's Jennie_ , Kyungsoo thinks as he remembers the encounter at the banquet. He stands by the shelves, stone-faced and quiet, perusing the document for no apparent reason. “I have to go. Thank you for your time.” He straightens his necktie. “And your signatures.”

Jongin moves toward him. “Check it again.”

“What?” Kyungsoo looks upward, mouth pursed but vaguely open and loose.

“The document.”

Kyungsoo obliges only to find a section that lacks Jongin's signature. “You missed a page.”

“You should always do that, Mr. Do. Let me have it.” Jongin does what is necessary as he steps closer, holding the folder by its edges. He risks a glance at Kyungsoo. “Do you want to stay for lunch?” he asks. “You should stay for lunch.”

“That's a really kind gesture, but I need to be back in the office. You know, tons of work to do, emails demanding my full attention. God, what else?” He forces a strained chuckle.

“Are you sure?”

_Are you sure?_ Is he? It's the kind of question that tries Kyungsoo's faltering will, and he hates it. “Yes, definitely,” he says, with the tone delivered too lightly, too rehearsed. “I'll see you around, Mr. Kim.”

Jongin nods. “Okay.”

And Kyungsoo lets his feet drag him anywhere but with Jongin.


	6. Intoxicated

It's been an hour and a half of wardrobe fittings. Kyungsoo finally opts for a white turtleneck under a brown blazer. He matches the outfit with a pair of mid-rise trousers and cap-toe oxfords before he gazes into the mirror for good measure.

The front road is practically empty as Kyungsoo checks the adjacent lots. He spots Junmyeon's car parked near the curb.

“Hi,” Junmyeon greets, almost dumbstruck. “You look stunning.”

“So are you.” Kyungsoo reprises the smile. It's an undeniable fact, considering Junmyeon's hair is neatly pushed back, revealing his well-groomed eyebrows and helix ear cuffs, not to mention the quiet confidence that he carries in a sport coat. “Is everything okay?” he asks as he catches Junmyeon staring at him.

“Yeah, of course, are _you_ okay? Do you want to, like, talk about what happened? I'll not force you to attend the party if you feel uncomfortable being around, you know, people celebrating, laughing.”

“Don't worry about me, Junmyeon. I told you, I'll make it up to you, right? I'm here because I've agreed to go.”

“Thank you. I mean it.”

They arrive at the venue minutes later. It's a grand ballroom that gives a picturesque of luxury in the city, with a high ceiling, a crystal chandelier, and royal-inspired fixtures, furbished with an aesthetically designed architecture.

“Junmyeon? Oh my god, it's you!” Seulgi chirps, running towards Junmyeon, the ruffles of her gown bouncing in the air.

“Easy. You're squeezing me.” Junmyeon chuckles, embracing Seulgi. “Happy birthday, gorgeous. I'm proud of the business tigress you've become. You're a star.”

Seulgi knocks a fist on Junmyeon's arm. “Don't be sappy.” He notices Kyungsoo, then flashes him a welcoming smile. “Hello, you must be the Kyungsoo in Junmyeon's life. You're a lucky man.”

“Please don't listen to her,” Junmyeon warns Kyungsoo, and to Kyungsoo's amusement, he giggles. “This is Seulgi, Kyungsoo. Seulgi, this is Kyungsoo.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” Kyungsoo says with a grin. “Happy birthday. I hope you're having a great one. It's beautiful here.”

“Yes, enjoy the night. Thank you both for coming. My heart feels warm and happy.” Seulgi turns to Junmyeon. “Where's Baekhyun, by the way?”

“He's in London.”

“What a shame. I haven't seen him for a year. Does he still eat strawberries for breakfast? Oh, god, I hope he's taking care of himself.”

“I'm sure he misses you a lot. We should hang out soon.”

“Then tell him to quit hiding from me!”

Junmyeon chuckles. “Yeah, I'll tell him as soon as he returns to Seoul.”

_Baekhyun_. Kyungsoo weighs the information with a tuned sense of observation. He has heard the name before, although there are probably hundreds of Baekhyun in the country. He grabs a glass of wine from the server's tray. The taste lingers, and Kyungsoo pays attention to how Junmyeon's hands move as he speaks, how Junmyeon's eyes seem to find him immediately in a few seconds of absence.

“Seulgi's been a friend of mine since college,” Junmyeon says.

“What?” Kyungsoo realizes he must have spaced out, long enough not to notice Seulgi leaving to mingle with a group of guests. “Why did you choose me, Junmyeon? You could have invited somebody else.”

Junmyeon balks. “Well, who would I pick if it weren't you?” Despite Kyungsoo's skepticism, Junmyeon maintains a gentle, sophisticated countenance. “You were the first person I thought of, and quite frankly, I didn't expect you would accept the invitation. But you did. It was worth the risk of trying and hoping.”

“Yeah, I'm sorry. I do ask a lot of strange questions. Is it the alcohol? Oh, maybe, it is.”

Junmyeon laughs. “Drink away your doubts, then.”

Kyungsoo takes another sip of wine. “Perfect suggestion.”

“I need to use the comfort room. Are you going to be fine by yourself?”

“Go on. I'm not a child. I'll wait for you here.”

Kyungsoo explores the area, appreciating the indoor fountains, the display of desserts, and the mellow music. He stops in the middle of the hall as he recognizes the man standing a couple of feet away from him. The suspicion proves him right the moment Jongin stares back at him. Kyungsoo's skin flushes like he's bathing under the summer sun. He doesn't ignore the fact that Jongin looks debonair in an all-black button-down.

“We meet again,” Jongin says. “I see you're unavoidable, Mr. Do.”

“You're avoiding me?” Kyungsoo's voice trails off.

“I think you're the one avoiding me.”

“A flawed assumption.”

Jongin inches closer to him. “Then come with me.”

Kyungsoo's mind stumbles to a halt. He darts glances across the room. “I'm with a friend,” he tells Jongin. “He should be here in a minute.” For a moment, Kyungsoo's eyes shift to the person behind Jongin. There is Junmyeon, equally surprised and puzzled, marching forward. “That's him.” He nods at Junmyeon's direction.

“Junmyeon?” Jongin's expression changes from neutral to livid.

“Jongin,” Junmyeon greets politely. “It's good to see you.”

Jongin turns to Kyungsoo. “Do you know him? Are you with him?”

“I don't understand,” Kyungsoo says, glancing between Jongin and Junmyeon in sheer confusion. “Junmyeon, what's going on?” he asks, receiving no answer.

“Save it.” Jongin walks out, leaving Kyungsoo speechless.

“Mr. Kim!” Kyungsoo shouts. He attempts to follow him, but Junmyeon grabs him by the arm, shaking his head. “Who are you?” Kyungsoo withdraws from the touch. “Junmyeon, who are you?” he repeats, louder and firmer.

Junmyeon's face pales. “I'm sorry, Kyungsoo.” He swallows. “I work as Chief Operating Officer of BHC, together with Byun Baekhyun, the Chief Executive Officer. I'm sure you've heard of him once or twice. The Byuns are not in good terms with the Kims, especially Jongin's father and Baekhyun's father. It's pretty complicated. Jongin may have misunderstood you. I should go talk to him.”

“No, Junmyeon, please. I don't think that's a good idea.” Kyungsoo sucks in a lungful of warm air, trying to relax. “I'll take care of it.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Just give me a minute, please?” Kyungsoo rushes out of the building and searches for Jongin. As he trudges down the path, he sees Jongin's car speeding away from the parking lot. He rings Jongin's phone several times, but his calls get directed to the voicemail.

Kyungsoo crouches to the ground.

* * *

Kyungsoo pushes the door shut behind him. “Mr. Kim, you have a Skype interview in fifteen.”

Silence.

He steps forward, gripping the folder tighter. “You need to proceed to the conference room now.”

“Get out,” Jongin says, not sparing him a glance.

Kyungsoo stays rooted to the spot, unflinching, the heat of Jongin's tone bringing him to his full height. “It's my job to make certain you do your responsibilities and follow your schedule.” His voice raises, but he doesn't care. He's not letting Jongin intimidate him. “I’m not leaving.”

That earns him a response. Jongin casts him a patented glare, and Kyungsoo glares right back. He approaches him, fuming, but the dangerous proximity doesn't threaten Kyungsoo a single bit. “What makes you think I want you here?” he asks with a tightness in the face. “I don't want you here, Do Kyungsoo.”

Kyungsoo remains composed, his head steady, holding Jongin's attention in a strong eye contact. “I know you're angry at me and I understand why you feel that way.”

“Do you?” Jongin closes the distance between him and Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo thinks past the worst-case scenario. He vouches for what's right instead of what's easy. “Mr. Kim, listen to me, please. I've never thought of stabbing you in the back or betraying the company. I'm not associated with the Byuns.” He pauses, hoping to convince Jongin, but it doesn't warrant him Jongin's judgment. “I'm completely, honestly unaware of your history with them, and I'm sorry. I get it. I should've known better, but how is that even possible?” He sighs in defeat. “Junmyeon is just a friend. We've never talked about where he works or who he is in your past. Please understand.”

Jongin's gaze flits around the office. “I don't trust him.”

“You don't have to.”

“And that changes the fact that you've known him for like what? Weeks? Months?”

“It changes nothing, but here's what I'm sure of: you can trust me.” His voice softens. “Mr. Kim, I don't think I'll ever do anything that will put you in danger. I don't think I'll ever let that happen.”

Jongin's expression grows stony and difficult to read. He sits on the couch, elbows on knees, fingers locked together, trapped in the reflective bubble around him.

Kyungsoo settles into the vacant spot beside Jongin. He allows him to sit in a few seconds of quiet moment.

“Don't give me that weird look. I'm fine,” Jongin says in a near whisper.

“Good, because I almost punched Junmyeon in the throat yesterday.”

“You what?” Jongin's eyebrows furrow.

“I'm kidding. Do you want me to punch him in the throat, though?”

“Quit it.”

“Are we okay now? I have to make sure we're okay before I treat you with the best coffee in the city.”

“Juhyun's coffee, of course.” There is a tiny smile tugging in the corners of Jongin's mouth.

“I'll see you in a bit.”

“Add an extra shot please, and yes, Mr. Do, we're okay.”

* * *

“Jongin! Kyungsoo!” Minseok hollers from the end of the corridor. “Working hours are over, kids. I'm in the mood to drink. Let's have some fun.”

“I've got a paper to finish,” Kyungsoo tells Jongin.

“Try harder,” Jongin says.

“My dog pissed everywhere, and now, my house smells like chicken bologna?”

“You got a dog?”

“Can I at least pretend and be creative?”

Jongin scowls. “He's not gonna buy your excuse.”

“I'll see you both in the parking lot! Don't bail out on me!” Minseok yells before he enters the elevator.

“I guess a few bottles won't hurt,” Jongin says.

“Okay, but you have a meeting tomorrow.”

* * *

The bar curves into the room, with a fairly huge crowd chatting in different voices, competing with the loud music. Kyungsoo winds through the warm bodies, searching for Jongin and Minseok. He spots Jongin seated on the high stool, laughing with a woman. She lolls her head to one side, puckering her lips a little, and Kyungsoo knows she's not drunk but she likes to give Jongin that impression.

“Well, isn't he a heartthrob?” Minseok appears from behind.

Kyungsoo grimaces. “I can't believe I have to see this public display of whatever again.”

“Oh, shucks. Not the first?”

“I don't even want to remember the details.”

“Must be traumatizing.”

“You have no idea.”

“Can you blame him, though? Your boss is one handsome son of a gun.” Minseok smiles, patting Kyungsoo on the back. “Get yourself some beer, Kyungsoo. Trust me, you need it.” He winks at him.

Kyungsoo moves in a purposeful stride with no hesitation. He lifts a finger to call the bartender, then orders a shot of white rum, which he chugs in an instant. He approaches Jongin. “Mr. Kim, I've been looking for you,” Kyungsoo says, glancing at the woman. “Will you please excuse us?”

“Sure, honey,” the woman says, grinning seductively before facing the bald guy beside her.

“Is everything all right?” Jongin asks him.

“Are you drunk?”

Jongin lets out something between a snort and a chuckle. “I'm not.” He puts an arm around Kyungsoo's shoulders, pulling him close. “You're so serious, Mr. Do. Let me buy you drink.”

Kyungsoo's body falls stagnant at the touch, feeling more fragile than a glass with Jongin. He can smell his perfume, and it drives him crazy – so drawn, so intrigued. He retreats from the contact. “You need to be early in the office tomorrow,” he says, clearing his throat.

Jongin grunts. “How many times do you have to remind me?” He pursues another shot. “I'll not forget. Oh, you know what else I'll not forget?” He gives him a cheeky smile. “Your résumé.”

“Really? My résumé? Jesus, what's so special about my résumé, Mr. Kim? It’s just a piece of paper.”

Jongin shrugs. “You look handsome in your photo.”

“You're definitely drunk.”

* * *

The cab eases into the driveway of Jongin's house. Kyungsoo maneuvers Jongin to hop out of the vehicle, but Jongin stumbles to the ground, lying in a heap on the floor, groaning. Kyungsoo watches him in utter disbelief. He kneels by, and he’s sure Jongin mutters something about glazed donuts.

Kyungsoo hooks an arm under Jongin's unresisting body but finds it difficult to give enough leverage considering Jongin is several inches taller than him. It takes Kyungsoo grueling minutes to walk Jongin to the door, holding him close enough and making sure he doesn't fall off the staircase and break his neck.

“Mr. Kim?” He calls, and Jongin responds with little mumbles of protest. “Your passcode.”

Jongin manages to recite the passcode, failing to register the numbers himself. Soon, Kyungsoo carries Jongin to the living room and drops him straight on the couch. He’s not sure what to do. Coffee? Shower? Ramen? Certainly, he cannot just leave the poor soul alone and helpless in the dark. Kyungsoo heaves a sigh. It's clear to him that he should have really thought things through. Jongin is a different type of responsibility.

“So hot,” Jongin complains, toeing off his shoes.

Kyungsoo slumps to the floor, then sighs inwardly, staring at Jongin in a safe and secret moment. “You're such an idiot, Kim Jongin.” He caresses Jongin's head, gently and quietly, almost like petting a baby animal. Kyungsoo's eyes travel down to the crook of Jongin's neck, where it's too impossible not to notice the sheen of sweat. His mouth dries at the sight, and he swallows, hard. He leans forward and pops the topmost button of Jongin's shirt.

“If you wanted to see me naked, you could have just asked,” Jongin says unexpectedly, clear yet husky, catching Kyungsoo's wrist in a light grip. He squints once, twice, then again and again, struggling to focus on Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo's heart rate doubles in the space of three seconds. “How inappropriate.”

Jongin shifts closer to him, resting in the warm, cozy couch, the moonlight pouring onto his skin. “You look handsome in your résumé.”

“You told me earlier.”

“But you look more handsome up-close.”

Kyungsoo breaks into a breathy laugh. “That’s funny,” he says in a rather flippant manner. “Why did you drink that much?” He changes the subject, trying not to get sidetracked.

There is a shadow of satisfaction in Jongin's smile. “Because I was sure you'd take care of me.”

Kyungsoo backs away, wary of where the conversation may lead. “You’ll make it to the meeting tomorrow, won’t you?”

Jongin flaps a hand in the air dismissively. “Yeah, I'll crush it. I always do.”

“God, I hate your confidence.” Kyungsoo feigns annoyance, making Jongin chuckle.

“What else do you hate about me? Don’t worry, I promise, it’s a harmless conversation, and we’re both adults. I take criticism well.”

“Suddenly, I can’t think of anything I hate about you.”

“But I’m pretty sure there is.”

“Yeah, of course. I hate the perpetual frown on your face when you’re in a meeting.”

“I’ll try to be more charming.”

“Mr. Kim, you need to rest,” Kyungsoo says after a beat. “It's past two o'clock.”

Jongin relaxes, lying on his stomach while gazing at Kyungsoo. “You're not going anywhere, are you?”

“I’m not.”

* * *

Kyungsoo wakes up in the dining table with a thick blanket over his shoulders. He scrambles to check the time on his phone only to realize that he’s late for work. The overwhelming sensation of dread washes over him until the housekeeper sashays into the room with a vacuum cleaner.

“Good morning, Mr. Do,” Mira greets, beaming.

“Hi,” Kyungsoo says, frantic and dazed. “Where's Mr. Kim?”

“Oh. He left an hour ago. Would you like something to eat?”

“No, thank you. I need to be in the office.”

“I'm afraid Mr. Kim insists you stay for breakfast. I've prepared clothes that you can try on. Wearing the same clothes from yesterday leaves a bad impression on your colleagues, and I’m here to rescue you from that. Please take a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

“Can I at least call Mr. Kim?”

“Uh-uh. He's in a meeting, remember? Just relax, Mr. Do. You'll be fine.” She rounds the kitchen, then brings Kyungsoo a mug of coffee. “You must be an outstanding employee. Mr. Kim seems to regard you a lot.”

Kyungsoo's ears burn. “Did Mr. Kim say anything about last night?” he asks, cautious.

Mira sends him a puzzled look. “Well, enlighten me. Which part of last night?”

“Nothing.” Kyungsoo clutches the mug tighter.

“I gave him Tylenol if you wanted to make sure he got through the morning headache.”

“He’s okay, isn’t he?”

“More than okay.”

* * *

“Kyungsoo!” Minseok greets. He wears a bright smile as he waves a hand at him. “Oh, shucks, are you mad at me?” he asks with a pout. “I'm sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to leave without a word. My wife called, and I had to run as fast as I could.”

“I'm not mad at you,” Kyungsoo says. It's safe to conclude that he doesn't feel a tinge of rage towards Minseok. Nonetheless, he promises to decline his drinking escapades in the future. The man's alcohol tolerance cannot be measured and is crazy high.

“How's Jongin?”

“He’s fine, I guess.”

Minseok eyes him suspiciously. “Lovely coat, but not your size.” He pinches the textile. Kyungsoo freezes. “You slept at his house, didn't you?”

There is a fleeting panic that crosses Kyungsoo's face. He snubs the question.

“Okay, I swear it's not a big deal. I've had a few sleepovers with him, too. Fun times.” Minseok chuckles, and Kyungsoo can tell he’s messing with him. “I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

Kyungsoo grins. “You're a wonder, hyung. We should eat meat when we're not too busy.”

“I agree. Oh, are you in the middle of something?”

“No, it's okay. I'm on my way to Mr. Kim's office.”

“I love your spirit, Kyungsoo.”

Kyungsoo hurries to the executive floor since Jongin has been expecting him. With a swift movement, he files into Jongin's office. Kyungsoo's fresh, energetic vibe vanishes as he finds a woman sitting on Jongin's desk, legs crossed, facing the executive. It doesn’t take him long to recognize Jennie. His hand slips from the knob and hangs, lifeless and loose.

“Hi,” Jennie greets him. “You're Mr. Kim's secretary, right?”

“Jennie, come on, you need to leave,” Jongin interrupts.

Jennie raises a silencing finger. “Can you please bring some coffee?” she asks Kyungsoo, then turns back to Jongin. “I'm a visitor. Treat me like a visitor. Where are your manners, Jongin? Don't you want me here? With you?” She rises, feet on the ground, smoothening Jongin's collar.

Jongin doesn't answer, his eyes fixated on Kyungsoo.

“As you wish, I'll order in the cafe, Ms. Jennie,” Kyungsoo says as politely as he can.

“Good. Be quick.” Jennie’s grin widens, proud of how Kyungsoo submits to the request.

Kyungsoo is more than pissed than offended as he heads for the cafe. He calls Juhyun’s attention, temper rising, cheeks reddening. He gathers the remaining bits of patience he has.

“Bad day?” Juhyun asks.

“Oh, don't even start. I can't wait to go home and binge-watch Rush Hour.”

“Jackie Chan is a living legend.”

“Yeah, how can I not adore him?”

Juhyun smiles. “What is it, Kyungsoo? Coffee for who?”

“For the boss.”

“And?”

“For the lady boss.”

“Lady boss?” Juhyun hums, wondering. “Ms. Kim?”

“Yes?” a woman from behind speaks, adjusting her sunglasses to see Juhyun in a much clearer vision. “What's going on? I have jet lag. Talk direct, or I'm out.”

“Welcome back!” Juhyun bows. “Kyungsoo, have you meet Ms. Kim Taeyeon? She's Mr. Kim's sister, the only lady boss of J&T, and our kind Chief Financial Officer.”

“Kind,” Taeyeon echoes, giggling. “Juhyun, you flatter me.”

“Hi, Ms. Kim, I believe we’ve met,” Kyungsoo says. “I'm Do Kyungsoo.”

“I remember. Yeah, that one time. What are you here for?”

“I'm here to fetch coffee for Mr. Kim and Ms. Jennie.”

“Jennie? Did she ask you to bring her coffee?” Taeyeon gripes in disgust. Kyungsoo and Juhyun exchange knowing glances. “Don't do that. It's not your job. Come with me.”

“What? Where?” Kyungsoo asks, worried.

“I'll give Jennie the brain massage she needs.”

Taeyeon barges into Jongin's office and is welcomed by Jennie complaining about Kyungsoo’s lack of urgency. “The cafe is closed,” she says, surprising both Jennie and Jongin.

Jennie falters as she sees Taeyeon. “You're back?”

“Like it's shocking?” Taeyeon lifts an eyebrow. She crosses her arms against her chest, sizing up Jennie. “In case you’ve forgotten, I own the company.”

“Noona, please. It's too early,” Jongin says in an attempt to control Taeyeon’s temper.

“Jongin, I couldn’t care less. I saw your secretary ordering coffee for you. Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“Noona.”

“I don't ever want to see anybody doing a job that it's not theirs. Are we clear?” The three of them are quiet. Taeyeon's nostrils flare. “Are we clear?” she asks again in a louder voice, and Kyungsoo almost jumps behind her.

“Yes,” Jongin says. “Yes, Ms. Kim, it’ll never happen again.”

“Can you please give Jongin and me a minute?”

Kyungsoo leaves the room with Jennie.

“I don’t like you,” Jennie tells him point-blank the moment the door closes. She anchors her hand on her hip.

“What?” Kyungsoo’s mouth parts, processing Jennie’s explicit declaration of hatred. “I’m sorry?” His voice remains calm, but his face reveals his displeasure.

“I don’t like you and I don’t like that you work with Jongin.”

“I respect your opinion, Ms. Jennie, and I’m sorry it bothers you that I’m Mr. Kim’s secretary, but I really, really enjoy working with him. As a matter of fact, I’ve come to love it more and more every day. Have a great afternoon ahead.”

Kyungsoo walks along the full length of the corridor. He doesn’t turn around.

* * *

> _Author's Note: Hi, everyone. It's Pride Month. I'm here to remind you that queerphobia is not an opinion and should never be tolerated. Speak up if you must. Please use your voice and make a stand. Thank you, and big hugs to the members of our dear LGBTQIA+ community!_


	7. Force of Nature

“What are you doing here?” Jongin asks Taeyeon as he and Kyungsoo arrive at the office. From the sitting area, he spots a kid, seated quietly, playing a game on the tablet. “Raeon?”

“Uncle Jongin!” Raeon greets, buzzing with excitement as he runs toward Jongin.

Jongin catches him, holding Raeon’s hand. “You’ve grown taller, huh.”

“I’ll be out of town for three days,” Taeyeon explains. She pulls the straps of Raeon’s backpack and makes sure they fit comfortably. “I need Mira to take care of Raeon.”

“Mira is on a week off. She can’t be bothered.”

“You’ll have to look after him for me, then.”

“Noona, you know I can’t do that. Mr. Do and I are preparing for the quarterly sales review.”

“Don’t upset the kid, Jongin,” Taeyeon says, referring to how Raeon is beaming at Jongin. “He’s been hoping to visit you. Aren’t you glad to see him?”

Jongin scrapes a hand over his face as if to sweep away his frustration. “My office is not a daycare center. You can’t leave him here, for Christ’s sake,” he says in an undertone.

Raeon’s lips pucker into a pout. “I’ve missed you, uncle. Can I please stay with you?”

Jongin crouches to the floor and meets Raeon eye-to-eye. He smiles at him. “I’ve missed you, too, but I’m a very busy man, Raeon.” He stands up, facing back Taeyeon. “Please bring him with you.”

“Oh, god, are you really going to be insufferable in front of your nephew?” Taeyeon gripes in displeasure. “Jongin, I can’t trust anybody. You’re the only person I can count on.” He turns to Raeon. “Raeon, honey, promise uncle that you will behave, that you will not interrupt him at work, especially with Mr. Do.” She offers Kyungsoo a grin. “Are you okay with that, Mr. Do?”

Kyungsoo searches for a hint of sorts from Jongin’s expression. “Um, I think we’ll be fine with having Raeon around,” he says, receiving a faint sigh from Jongin. “Right, Mr. Kim?”

“Uncle, I promise I’ll be a good boy,” Raeon tells Jongin.

Jongin visibly relaxes. “Okay.”

“Perfect.” Taeyeon’s mood brightens. “Honey, no running and littering in the office, all right?” She reminds Raeon, to which she earns a dutiful nod. She kisses him on the temple, then thanks Jongin and Kyungsoo before she heads for the door and waves them goodbye.

Kyungsoo risks a glance at Jongin. “Should I have said no?” His voice drops to a near whisper.

“It wouldn’t have made a difference even if you did,” Jongin says.

“Who are you?” Raeon asks, staring at Kyungsoo from head to toe.

“I’m Kyungsoo,” Kyungsoo introduces. “Raeon is such a cute name.” Raeon blinks, passive and unimpressed. “You can call me uncle Kyungsoo.”

Jongin chuckles as he watches Raeon and Kyungsoo. “Raeon, be nice to Mr. Do.”

Raeon blenches. “No, I don’t like other uncles. I don’t like him.”

“That’s interesting. Why do you not like him?” Jongin anticipates Raeon’s response, but the kid remains tight-lipped, frowning. “Does he scare you?” he asks, and Raeon shakes his head, almost vigorously. “You’ve just met him. There’s no reason to hate a person you’ve just met, right? Besides, Mr. Do is my friend.”

“I'm your friend?”

“What? Are you not?”

Kyungsoo feels strangely flattered to hear Jongin considering him a friend. He cannot help but remember how much he used to hate the man’s guts or how often he wanted to punch his pretty face for being too tough on him. “Raeon, would you like some ice cream?”

“I don't like you,” Raeon spits.

“Raeon, that’s rude,” Jongin warns him. “You should never talk to people that way. Do you hear me? Now, be polite and apologize to Mr. Do.” He waits, but Raeon refuses to oblige. “Raeon, what have I told you before? When you make a mistake, don’t be afraid to say you’re sorry. Do you remember that?”

Raeon nods. “I’m sorry, uncle Kyungsoo,” he mutters, looking down.

“You’re forgiven.” Kyungsoo smiles at him, then at Jongin.

Jongin leads Raeon to the couch, beckoning him to sit. “I’ve still got work to do, but I promise I’ll treat you to wherever you want later. How does that sound?”

Raeon loops his arms around Jongin’s neck. “Thank you, uncle.”

“You’re most welcome.” Jongin strokes the small of Raeon’s back.

“I’ll wait for you. And uncle Kyungsoo.”

* * *

It's quarter to five, the weather has gone colder, and Kyungsoo’s spine feels like dried cement from the strain of being in front of the computer for three and a half hours straight. After he attends to an email inquiry, he drops by Jongin’s office. “Mr. Kim, I’ve sent you the minutes of the meeting.”

Jongin nods, tying the laces of Raeon's shoes into a neat ribbon, then putting the backpack on him. “How did Myungsoo react to the news?” he asks.

The sight warms him, and for a moment, Kyungsoo’s mouth falls slightly open, observing how Jongin smoothens Raeon’s shirt, how Jongin’s eyes curve into crescents as he smiles at Raeon. It takes Kyungsoo a couple of seconds to realize that Jongin has repeated the question. “Oh, yeah, um, Myungsoo sounded optimistic. He’ll call you tomorrow.”

Jongin’s attention flits to Kyungsoo. “Are you leaving?”

“That’s the plan. I think I’m done for today.”

“Let’s change the plan. Why don’t you come with Raeon and me?”

“No, I mean, really, it’s your time together.”

“Uncle Kyungsoo, you said you’d buy me ice cream,” Raeon says, reminding him. “We’re going to see lots of fish! We’re going to see Nemo and Dory!”

“He wants to go to the ocean park,” Jongin tells Kyungsoo. “And you owe him an ice cream. Kids don’t forget.” 

* * *

“Raeon, don't run!” Jongin hollers as Raeon dashes toward the massive aquarium.

Kyungsoo’s footsteps jar to a halt. He watches Raeon, pining for the lost innocence and youth. He remembers home - the smell of mothballs in the closet, the graze of sunrays over the bedsheet, and the echo of voices cheering for the soccer players on the television. There is a sharp twinge in Kyungsoo's chest, the familiarity growing and becoming difficult to ignore. He lets the sensation of time pass slowly until he hears Jongin chuckling at how Raeon mimics the fish.

“He's adorable,” Jongin says, turning around to check Kyungsoo's reaction. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it's just heartwarming to see him having fun at that age. You can't take away that feeling of ease and calm from a child.” Kyungsoo plasters on a rueful smile.

Jongin's expression shifts, open and concentrating, as he looks at Kyungsoo. “Tell me.”

Kyungsoo sighs, but he stands next to Jongin, eyes on Raeon. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything. I'm all ears.”

“Okay, well, wow. Um, my brother and I were the best buddies, but we wrestled whenever we had a dispute. We both enjoyed cycling in the village, greeted every neighbor, including Mr. Yang because he would often buy us sugar lollipops. My mom scolded me a lot, though, for scraping my knees and elbows and for getting scruffy outside. She was rather conservative, told me to be prim and proper, but I wasn't the good kid.”

“And your brother was the good kid?”

“No, he was stubborn, too. During my teenage years, my mom and I always argued about things – stuff that upset her.”

“Things like what?” Jongin's still demeanor aids in observation. He gazes at Kyungsoo with increased focus, but Kyungsoo doesn't answer the question. He stops prying. “Don't worry, you don't have to tell me,” he says, his tone reassuring and genuine.

For a minute, Kyungsoo's lips remain sealed, deciding if he should continue. “My dad had my back all the time.” He catches a hint of interest in Jongin's eyes. “He said I shouldn't be sorry for the things that made me happy. I was young. I almost believed that.”

“I'd have to agree with him.”

“The things that make you happy aren't always good for you.”

“You think so?” Jongin moves toward Raeon, patting him on the head. “Life's too short for that, Mr. Do. You're too hard on yourself. Live a little.”

Kyungsoo is rendered speechless. He heeds the advice.

“Oh, look at it. Do you know what that is? Can you name it for me?” Jongin challenges Raeon as he coaxes him to follow the fish's movements.

“Baby shark!” Raeon shouts with delight. The shark looms behind the glass, and he leaps, falling in Jongin's arms. “Uncle, it's gonna bite me!” He hides, hugging Jongin.

Jongin carries Raeon and pulls him close. “Are you scared of the shark?” he asks. Raeon nods, embracing him tighter. “How about the starfish?”

Raeon gazes around, confused. “Where's the starfish?”

Jongin finds Kyungsoo standing a few feet away from them. “What is it? You don't fancy fish-watching? Raeon and I love fish. Come here.”

Kyungsoo's mouth curls into a slow grin. “You love fish,” he says, strolling with Jongin and Raeon side by side. “I'll keep that in mind for future reference.”

Jongin scowls. “Don't upset the kid, Mr. Do.”

“Are you upset, Mr. Kim?”

“I'm starting to think it should be punishable to make fun of me.”

They share a laugh.

* * *

“Thank you, uncle Kyungsoo,” Raeon says as he licks the ice cream.

Kyungsoo smiles. “You're welcome, Raeon.”

Jongin spots streaks of chocolate on the corner of Raeon's mouth. He wipes it with the napkin. “Is it delicious?” he asks, and Raeon nods.

Raeon turns to Kyungsoo with a hopeful gaze. “Will I see you in the office tomorrow?”

“Of course, you will. Mr. Kim and I have a lot of things to do. So, you don't have to worry about being stuck alone with him.”

“Can you come watch the Lion King with me and uncle Jongin?”

“The Lion King?” Kyungsoo repeats, exchanging furtive glances with Jongin. Jongin feigns innocence. “I can't, Raeon. Don't you want to spend more time with Mr. Kim? Without me?”

“I do, but I want you to be there, too,” Raeon insists. “Please, uncle Kyungsoo.” He pulls out some candies from the side pocket of his backpack. “I'll give you three candies if you say yes.”

“Are you going to say no to that?” Jongin chips in.

Raeon grabs Kyungsoo's hand, tugging it. “I'll give you five. And you can pick the flavor of the popcorn.”

“Where did you learn to negotiate at such a young age?” Kyungsoo's eyes narrow at him. He catches a trace of guilt on Jongin's face.

“Five is enough?” Raeon gives him another pout.

Kyungsoo chuckles. “Okay, I'll go on one condition,” he says. Raeon anticipates the win-win deal. “You'll split the candies, two for me, two for you, and one for Mr. Kim.”

“And why do I only get one?”

“Because you're the oldest.”

* * *

“I'm flying back to Changsha in a week.”

The information leaves a heaviness in Kyungsoo's chest. He struggles for words, his grip on the chopsticks becoming loose, his shoulders falling as the shock registers. “Are you serious, hyung?” he asks in a voice warbling with emotion.

Yixing nods. “I miss being home, Kyungsoo. I miss my relatives. I miss fishing and birdwatching. For the past years, I've thoroughly enjoyed teaching children here, but I want to feel closer to where I'm supposed to be.”

“I'm just surprised,” Kyungsoo says, pressing a fist to his mouth and trying to process the news.

“You understand, don't you?”

“Of course, I do. I mean, there's no other place that brings you comfort like home.”

Yixing places a hand over Kyungsoo's arm, rubbing a thumb across the skin. “I don't forget.” He grins. “You'll hear from me every once in a while. That's a promise.”

Kyungsoo sniffs as he wipes the lone tear that escapes from his eye. “God, I'm gonna have to learn how to cook your Hakka noodles.” He chuckles softly.

“Don't cry. It breaks my heart. I'll share the recipe with you.”

“I can't help it. You and grandma Meihui took good care of me. How do I even repay you for that?”

“You don't have to. You always told me you could do it yourself, but it was easy to know the real you, Kyungsoo. You needed someone by your side, no matter how much you insisted that you didn't.”

“I didn't wanna be a burden.”

“You weren't. Never.”

“I was devastated at that time. I felt tormented because of the accident. I completely lost trust in myself.”

“You've regained it and you keep getting better. I hope your happiness persists because you deserve it. Let life in.” Yixing pokes the egg in his ramen. “Eat up. Your food is getting cold.” For a brief moment, he studies Kyungsoo. “So, any cute guys at work?”

With the amount of noodles in Kyungsoo's mouth and the impact of Yixing's question, Kyungsoo chokes. He pursues a swig of water. “I wish.”

“The Mr. Kim who drove you to the hospital?”

“Oh, no, absolutely not. He's my boss. And I'm not interested in him.”

Yixing gazes at him suspiciously. “Is that the lie you tell yourself?”

“He has a girlfriend, hyung, and he's overall not my type. I can't explain how inappropriate and absurd and outrageous it is to have eyes for your boss.”

Yixing shrugs, not buying Kyungsoo's justification. “Well, at least admit you have a little crush on him.”

Kyungsoo's cheeks mottle with the shade of ripe strawberries. “I don't. He's annoying.”

“Annoying, sure.” Yixing simpers. “I hate to break it to you, but you're clearly annoyed for one reason and one reason only. I'll let you figure that out.”

* * *

“Thank you, Mr. Shin,” Kyungsoo says as he bids farewell to the man and heads for the elevator hall. He feels his phone vibrating in his overcoat. The name Park Chanyeol flashes on the screen. “Hello, what's the occasion?” he greets Chanyeol.

“Jeongsu is having a party tonight. You should come,” Chanyeol tells him.

Kyungsoo remembers Jongin's invitation to watch the Lion King with Raeon. “I can't, Chanyeol. I'm swamped.”

“Swamped?” Chanyeol snorts from the other end of the line. “Is Kim Jongin treating you like shit? Does he force you to stay behind after office hours?”

“No, but I've got backlogs that I need to address before the week ends.”

“I can't believe you're not coming because of him.”

“Jesus, it's not his fault, okay? Things happen.”

“Professor Jo's gonna be there. Is it still a no from you?”

“Good for him. It doesn't change my mind, though.”

“For fuck’s sake, Kyungsoo. All for your job?”

“Look, I promise I'll make it up to you. Just not tonight.”

“By the way, do you know a certain Kim Jennie? My colleague says she's Kim Jongin's girlfriend. I googled her earlier, and damn, your rich ass boss is one lucky son of a bitch.”

_I don't like you._ Kyungsoo's mind rebels at the memory of the words spoken to him. With a clouded gaze lacking its usual sentience, he takes a few sudden steps to the corner where he peers despondently through the floor-to-ceiling window, his hand pressed against the glass, his eyes roving across the cityscape. He swallows, hard and painful, trying to remain composed. “I don't know her,” he says curtly.

“Well, now you do. I swear, Kyungsoo, she's gorgeous. Kim Jongin has amazing taste in women. I commend him for that and for that only. He can seduce whoever he wants while I'm here, vying for Jinah's attention. The world is such a cruel place. I fucking hate it.”

“I need to go,” Kyungsoo says, stone-faced. “I'm sorry. I'll see you soon, Chanyeol.” He ends the call, then exhales a long, stale-breathed sigh. He clicks the up button, and as the elevator door slides open, he sees Jongin, gazing back at him.

“Going up?” Jongin steps aside.

Without a word, Kyungsoo joins him.

“Are you coming with us tonight?” Jongin asks in a modulated voice.

Kyungsoo fidgets, fixing his collar. “Do I have to?”

“What does that even mean? Raeon wants you to come.”

“Sure, I'll go, only because he wants me to come. I don't have the heart to reject Raeon. It's actually strange how quick I've grown fond of him.”

Jongin gives him a once-over. “Is everything all right, Mr. Do?”

The question snaps Kyungsoo to attention. “Yes, of course, Mr. Kim. Don't worry about me. I'm a grownup man.” He chokes out a laugh. Kyungsoo's desire to flee rises. Finally, the lift reaches the executive floor. He gestures his hand and allows Jongin to walk out first.

Jongin faces him. “I'll see you later,” he says, receiving a noncommittal nod from Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo convinces himself it's for Raeon.

* * *

Raeon plops onto the couch, sandwiched between Jongin and Kyungsoo, chanting _Simba_ again and again as the movie begins rolling on the screen.

“The snacks,” Jongin says.

“I'll go get them,” Kyungsoo tells him.

“I'll help you.”

“It's okay. Keep your eyes on him, Mr. Kim.”

“Like he's going anywhere.”

In the kitchen, Jongin paws through the cupboard, then reaches for the bowl to prepare Raeon's favorite cereal. “Gotta keep it healthy,” he says, peeling off the banana before slicing it into thin parts.

Kyungsoo grabs the carton of fresh milk and pushes it toward Jongin's direction. “You and Raeon seem to spend a lot of time together.”

“Taeyeon noona travels in and out of the city. I enjoy babysitting but I get too busy with work most of the time. It's tough being an uncle.”

“You love kids.”

“Of course, I do.” Jongin adds the toppings – bananas and strawberries – in a creative pattern, along the side of the bowl, leaving the cereal visible in the center. “Mr. Do, I know it's quite long overdue, but I'm sorry about what happened with you and Jennie.”

The name leaves a bad taste in Kyungsoo’s mouth. “You don't have to apologize, Mr. Kim. It's not a big deal.”

“Not to you. You're my executive secretary. Your job description doesn't include delivering coffee or running the pantry. I've been with the company for years, and let me tell you, your position shouldn't be underestimated. I would never be able to arrange a meeting without your assistance.”

“It's really okay.”

“I saw you. You were offended.”

“I was, yeah, but I got over it pretty quick.” There is a momentary silence. He gauges Jongin's expression before he pops the question. “Did I put you in trouble?”

Jongin sighs. “It was my fault. Taeyeon noona did reprimand me, but just like you, I got over it pretty quick.” He grins, and it doesn't take him long to catch Kyungsoo staring at him. “What's that look on your face?” he asks. “Remorse? Suppressed hatred? Fascination?”

Kyungsoo laughs, heading toward the opposite counter as he pours the nachos into the crescent dish. “You're hilarious, Mr. Kim,” he says, voice laced with sarcasm.

“Well, aren't I the whole package?” Jongin casts him a side-glance.

“You're asking the wrong person.”

“Am I?”

* * *

“Uncle, it's Pumbaa!” Raeon chirps, pointing a finger at the television. “Look at him, uncle. He’s a friend of Simba.”

“And what animal is Pumbaa?” Jongin asks, weaving his fingers through Raeon's hair.

“A warthog!”

“That's right.”

Kyungsoo leans in, and whispers, “How many times have you seen this movie?”

Jongin says, “Fourteen?”

“And how many times have you heard about Pumbaa the warthog?”

“Fourteen, Mr. Do, fourteen times.”

The clock strikes eight. On the coffee table, the snacks have been consumed. The credits roll on the screen as Raeon sleeps peacefully on Kyungsoo's lap.

“He likes you a lot,” Jongin tells Kyungsoo. “He doesn't even talk to Taemin.”

Kyungsoo just smiles and caresses Raeon's head.

“Taeyeon noona's picking him up tomorrow morning. I'm sure Raeon will miss you.”

“I'll miss him, too.” He pulls the hem of Raeon's shirt, making sure the chilly air doesn’t give him a shudder. “You should bring him to bed.”

“Yeah, let me just–” Jongin collects Raeon's body, gently and quietly. “Oh, that little snore.” He smiles, pushing Raeon's face against his neck. “I'll be right back.”

After a few minutes, Jongin returns. Kyungsoo stands under the dim lights of the room. “I gotta go,” he says. “Thank you for inviting me here. I'll see you Monday?”

“Definitely. Do you want me to call Eric and ask him to drive you home?”

“That won't be necessary, Mr. Kim. I'll take a cab.”

Jongin nods. “Okay.”

Kyungsoo heads for the door, but before his feet touch the foyer, he feels a warm, gentle hand wrapped around his wrist. He finds Jongin holding his overcoat.

“You forgot your coat.”

There is a heated silence that stretches between them a bit too long. “Must have slipped my mind. What was I thinking?” He takes the overcoat from Jongin, clutching the material, looking at him, just looking.

Jongin clears his throat. “It's cold outside. You should wear it.”

If Kyungsoo is right, he doesn't remember fastening the buttons. He pops them, almost nonchalantly, not minding the scattered extra seconds to stay. He puts the overcoat on. “Done.” He half-smiles. It's unmissable how Jongin's gaze reminds him of that night he got drunk, but Kyungsoo dismisses that thought, telling himself that it's all in his imagination. “It's getting late. You should go check on Raeon.”

“Yeah, sure, I will.”

“Good night.”

“Be safe, Kyungsoo.”

* * *

> _Author's Note: Hi, everyone. I hope you're all safe and healthy. With the current events happening around the globe, I encourage you to take a few minutes of your time to support our beloved brothers and sisters in the black community._
> 
> _Sign the petitions here:<https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/>_
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> _Thank you._


	8. Round and Round

The beach is a sprawling stretch of white, powdery sand, with a breathtaking oceanfront, thatched villas, and an infinity pool that boasts a panoramic view of the sea. There are mountain ranges covered in a rug of trees, kissing the skies, like slumbering giants beneath the thick clouds. The resort, adored for its rustic architecture, breathes in nature, exuding a feel of escape from the city.

It's a picture-worthy island, not only because of the luxurious abodes and modern amenities but also because of the intimate atmosphere that welcomes its visitors.

The members of Taeyeon’s staff have booked presidential villas for the trip. Each house, built with sturdy bamboo and wood, has a colonial tub, an outdoor spa, and a beverage-making facility where guests can experiment with coffee or alcohol.

“Okay, I hope everyone’s comfortable after the long travel. It’s been such an awesome day having you guys around, chatting spontaneously about non-work-related stuff. I love it,” Taeyeon says, nursing a glass of martini. “You may bring your luggage to your designated room and rest for a while.” She downs the cocktail. “We meet at six.”

As time progresses, Kyungsoo sits by the shore, the waves crashing against his feet. The water is lukewarm, but it leaves a touch of cool whenever the wind gusts. He savors the moment, every shade of blue, every shade of orange caressing his skin.

“You okay?”

It takes him a fraction of a second to recognize Jongin's voice. “Mr. Kim, what are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here?” Jongin occupies the spot beside him. “Taeyeon noona and Taemin are too loud. It’s like they haven’t been together for years, which I totally understand. They’re inseparable.” He sighs, watching the horizon. “I’ve been looking for you,” he says nonchalantly. “Did I catch you in the middle of your retrospective solitude?”

Kyungsoo spares a glance at him. He can see Jongin squinting at the sun. His hair looks soft without wax. “No, I just needed a breath of fresh air.” He traces a fingertip along the sand until the characters read his initials.

Jongin’s eyes drift to Kyungsoo. “You don’t want me around, do you?” he asks in all seriousness.

The accusation makes Kyungsoo frown in confusion, but Jongin’s face goes stoic. “What do you mean? I spend eight hours a day, minimum, with you, running documents in your office and even picking presents for your business partners, and not to mention, a couple nights, organizing your life while eating a microwaved meal for dinner.”

“Precisely, Mr. Do. You hate me because I have completely turned your life into a living hell, I complain about your fifteen-minute late responses, and I don’t smile like a celebrity.”

“You barely smile, Mr. Kim.”

“Depends on the subject. I'm hard to please.”

Kyungsoo confines another laugh to a snort. “Hold on a second, do you really think I hate you?”

“It’s a thought that sticks with me, but no, Mr. Do, I don’t think you hate me that much.” Jongin flashes him a small grin. “I meant the fifteen-minute late responses, though. You shouldn’t set your phone on silent. There are important things that require swift and proper attention at work.”

“Yes, Mr. Kim.” Kyungsoo nods, amused. There is a pause that allows him to relish the silence between them. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Sure, just break it to me gently,” Jongin quips.

“Well, months ago, my friend met Jinah from HR.”

“Im Jinah? What about her?”

“My friend wanted to help her find a qualified applicant as soon as possible, so without my knowledge, he sent her my résumé, and a few days later, I took the exam, and she interviewed me for the position.” He looks over at Jongin, searching for the slightest bit of negative emotion. “I had different plans before I ended up in your office. It kind of happened fast, like, I lost control over it, and I said yes.”

Jongin’s gaze doesn’t suggest any suspicion or disappointment. “I'm glad you said yes.”

It’s not the reaction Kyungsoo is expecting from Jongin, but it offers him a strange combination of relief and comfort. “Yeah, I’m glad I did.” He smiles. “It has been a great stay so far. I mean, really, the cinnamon rolls in the café are the best snack I’ve ever had.”

Jongin chuckles. “Of course, it's the food that captivates you.”

“I've made a few friends, too.”

“Your social life must be thriving.”

“It's important to build connections with people and create an interdisciplinary space.”

“Your business professor tells you that?”

“No, he speaks more eloquently than I do, but I'm sure he'll agree with me. Don't you think communication is the biggest bottleneck or leverage in getting what you want in life?”

“And trust isn't?” Jongin challenges.

“Trust is a tricky concept,” Kyungsoo notes.

“I know what it's like to be cheated on. Quite an emotional sore, to be honest.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don’t be. It's work-related.” Jongin taps his feet as the waves reach his ankles. “So, how are you and Junmyeon?” he asks after a beat.

Kyungsoo falters. He pulls his knees to his chest for cover. “We’re good,” he says in a rather clipped tone.

“Are you dating him?”

The question leaves a flush of heat on Kyungsoo’s face. After what happened at Seulgi’s birthday party, he and Junmyeon haven’t been in contact for weeks on end. He recalls Junmyeon’s last message, which reads: _I’m sorry, Kyungsoo. I wish I did things differently. I’m still here if you wanna talk._ “No, I’m not,” Kyungsoo says. He doesn’t elaborate further.

“You seem pretty close.”

“He's a nice person, at least to me.”

“Yeah, obviously.”

“Listen, I respect your opinion on him, Mr. Kim. Your feelings, regardless of where they stem from, are valid. I'll never judge you based on your past with Junmyeon. It's your story, not mine.”

Jongin nods. “Yeah, I've come to terms with the fact that I'm not in the position to stop you from being friends with him. It’s childish, and I don't want to be unfair.” He pauses as if measuring the weight of his words. “You can decide for yourself, Mr. Do, and I trust you'll always choose what's right.”

_But for who?_ Kyungsoo's thoughts race at quantum speed.

“It's almost six. I'm heading back.” Jongin stands up, then dusts off his khakis.

“I'll linger for a few more minutes.”

* * *

“Five hundred thousand dollars,” Taemin says, leaving Minho in utter disbelief. “That was a single quarter sale, Minho. I wrote history. Right, Jongin?”

“He bagged all the awards,” Jongin attests.

“Global Tourism Council?” Taeyeon interrupts, earning a vigorous nod from Taemin. “They're a money-generating organization. I can confirm that they allocate a budget of twelve figures annually. Dollars.”

“Jesus Christ, imagine that,” Taemin mumbles.

“Tap them again,” Jongin says, gazing at each and every one in the table. “Nobody’s brave enough to do it?”

“I'll do it,” Donghee answers. He’s an account manager from the sales and marketing department, with an excellent reputation in the business, a convincing history of employment, and a high-energy, charming personality.

“You have my full support, brother,” Sunggyu chips in. He puts a hand over Donghee's shoulder. Jongin nods at them, impressed with the initiative.

“More drinks for Mr. Kim, then,” Minho cajoles, pouring Jongin his fourth round of whiskey. They cheer for him, except Minseok and Kyungsoo, aware that Jongin has the alcohol tolerance of a month-old infant.

Jongin declines. “I can't. I'm a bad drinker.”

“Mr. Kim, the night is perfect. It's not a sin to have fun.”

“Minho, I swear, I suck at this.”

“When was the last time you got drunk?”

Jongin glances at Kyungsoo, tongue-tied and helpless. Kyungsoo pretends not to notice, ignoring him as he chugs his beer.

“I'll have it,” Minseok says, stealing the glass from Minho and emptying it. He hisses at the aftertaste. “Leave Jongin alone.” He sends Jongin and Kyungsoo a look of recognition. “If there is one person in this room who's not afraid of a challenge, that's me. So, give me that bottle of Johnnie Walker. That's my baby right there.”

“Oh, you’re a hero, Minseok, I've missed you,” Taeyeon coos, clinging into Minseok's arm. She fakes a sob.

Taemin laughs. “She's drunk,” he whispers to Jongin. “Should I bring her to the room?”

“Your head is literally resting on my shoulder. I should bring you and noona to the room.”

Taemin turns to Jongin, red-faced, scrutinizing him. “Don't be such a smug,” he says. “Remember that night in Daegu? You had that weird, motivational pep talk with yourself in front of the bathroom mirror, then you sat on the toilet and slept there. How did you even manage to do that?” Taemin scrunches up his nose.

“It wasn't as worse as you bumping your head on the door and cutting your left eyebrow.”

“You said it was safe to walk!”

“And you weren't walking; you were dancing,” Jongin says. He earns another grumble of protests from Taemin.

“Whatever.” Taemin loses balances and falls into Kyungsoo's lap. “Cozy. Can I take a nap here?”

“No, you can't,” Jongin says abruptly. “Get up, Taemin. This is embarrassing.” He grunts.

“I'll walk him back to your room,” Kyungsoo tells Jongin.

Jongin hoists Taemin's body, helping him. “I'm coming with you.”

As they reach the room, Jongin and Kyungsoo help Taemin settle onto the mattress. Jongin proceeds to the kitchen to fetch a bottle of water while Kyungsoo sits on the foot of the bed.

“Get some rest, boss,” Kyungsoo says.

Taemin giggles. “Oh, Kyungsoo, do you realize how sweet you are? You're like a giant fucking basket of candies and marshmallows and lollipops.”

Kyungsoo laughs. “Unbelievable.”

“Wait, where's Jongin?” Taemin narrows his eyes, gazing around.

“Don’t worry, he'll be right back.”

“Of course! You're here, and he'll probably not leave you with me. He's territorial, isn't he?”

“What? No, I think he's worried about you bumping your head somewhere again.”

Taemin groans in exasperation. “You're _so_ stupid, Kyungsoo.” He hugs the pillow and closes his eyes.

“Are you sleeping?” Kyungsoo asks, but Taemin doesn't answer. “Why am I stupid? Oh my god, does Mr. Kim think I'm stupid? Mr. Lee!” He shakes Taemin's leg. No response.

“Don’t mind him,” Jongin says as he returns the room. “He's drunk, and he falls asleep literally seconds after he decides that he wants to sleep.” He places a bottle of water and a couple of medicines on the nightstand.

“Looks like he'll be fine.” Kyungsoo rises, stroking his arm. “What about you?”

“I'm a little tired. I'll be in the next room.”

“Yeah, me too, I mean, with the others. Not the next room where you'll be in.”

* * *

The air smells of the ocean and the sun has barely risen from the horizon. It's still early for the day to begin, but Kyungsoo rewards himself with the gift of another morning. He brings a steaming mug of coffee to the veranda where he captures the scenery, no work-related thoughts to bother him. He's rumpled in his sweater and joggers, half-awake, and his eyeglasses are perched loosely on his nose.

“Lovely, isn't it?” Minseok says from behind.

“Yeah, I don't have enough words to describe how breathtaking it is,” Kyungsoo admits. “You didn't get drunk last night, did you?”

Minseok grins. “I wouldn't be here talking sober with you if I did. Donghee and Sunggyu left after a couple shots. I've known them since forever, and believe me, they can't even pass five bottles of alcopop.”

“They're both smart and cool, though.”

“Yeah, how did Taemin do last night?”

“He fell asleep fast. Mr. Kim and I had left before he started snoring.”

“Oh, shucks, poor kid. You and Jongin, how are you dealing with each other at work?”

Kyungsoo takes a slow swig of his coffee. “We're okay, I guess. He's been surprisingly calm and understanding. I mean, challenges arise, but like you said, they're often manageable.”

Minseok nods. “You like Jongin,” he says, firm and certain. He pins Kyungsoo with an inscrutable gaze. “Oh, come on, it's easy for a casual observer to notice the way you look at him.”

The problem with having feelings is that they grow over time, and in Kyungsoo's case, he fights them, convinced that he'll be able to kill the emotions off. “What are you talking about?” he asks, his voice strained at the edges.

“Eyes don't lie, Kyungsoo. You can keep pretending, but I guarantee you, it's not gonna go away no matter how hard you try. Sooner or later, you'll figure it out, and maybe, you'll find it easier to tell him.”

“Hyung, that’s a little over the top. I don't like him that way. He's my boss.”

“That’s just your excuse.”

* * *

“Kyungsoo!” Taemin shouts behind the bar. “We're making coffee. Jongin tells me you're a fan.”

Kyungsoo remembers his conversation with Minseok in vivid detail. What if Jongin had the same observation? He feels exposed, and worse, he feels self-conscious to look at him straight in the eye. But he does. “Okay, I'm in,” he says, marching toward Taemin's direction.

“Perfect!” Taemin grabs the French press, preparing the necessary materials. He rummages through the cabinet where bags and bags of coffee are stored.

Jongin shifts position and stands beside Kyungsoo. “I'll teach you how.”

“Teach me what?” Kyungsoo asks him.

“The secret is all in the grind,” Jongin says, to which, Taemin and Kyungsoo snap to attention. He pokes the bag of ground coffee. “Medium works best because of its consistency,” he explains. “Very coarse grinds tend to clog the filter while very fine grinds may pass through the filter.”

The information astounds Taemin. He gapes at Jongin. “Where did you learn that?”

“Father taught me.”

“I thought he liked green tea.”

“Taemin, can you boil the water for me?” Jongin instructs.

Taemin performs the task and makes sure the water doesn't boil too much.

“Mr. Do, you'll do coffee blooming,” Jongin says.

“What’s that?” Kyungsoo sends him a baffled stare.

“Don't worry, I'll help you.” Jongin moves closer to him. He holds the handle of the beaker with a steady hand, then removes the plunger. Carefully, he adds adequate grams of coffee. “Coffee blooming means you have to pour a small amount of water on the grounds. Just enough to saturate them.”

“Oh. Okay.” Kyungsoo grabs the kettle with a rather shaky hand.

“You don't have to be nervous. Relax.” Jongin chuckles. “You might pour too much.” He places a hand over Kyungsoo's, guiding him in the process.

Kyungsoo's body tenses as he watches the water drip. He feels a traitorous warmth creeping all over his skin.

“Leave it untouched for a minute.”

Taemin yanks a napkin from the corner and pats Kyungsoo's forehead dry with it. “Is it too hot? I must have boiled the water for too long.” He pouts. “That’s pretty handsome, though.”

“Sixty seconds is over,” Jongin says after a while. “You may now pour more water and stir it gently with the paddle.”

Kyungsoo nods. “Um, yeah, thanks.”

“I'll do the plunging,” Taemin chimes in, still as enthusiastic and energetic as ever. “You guys can leave it to me. My token of appreciation for last night.” He winks at Kyungsoo.

Jongin pats Kyungsoo on the back, and says, “Great job.”

* * *

Kyungsoo hears a knock as he slips into a pair of pug-print pajamas. He's expecting Minseok, Taemin, and Taeyeon to invite him for a quick karaoke session. Although he has rejected the offer twice, the trio remains persistent about having him blast the microphone while drinking bottles and bottles of soju. He pulls the door open only to find Jongin with bleary, tear-soaked eyes, wearing retro shorts and plaid flannel.

“Mr. Kim, is everything all right?” he asks, clearly surprised with the sudden visit.

“I can't sleep,” Jongin says, fighting a yawn. “They're so damn noisy. Can I crash into your room? Do you have an extra bed there?”

Kyungsoo doesn't. He instinctively scans the room for good measure. There is a one-seater sofa, which obviously cannot accommodate a person as tall as Jongin. “I'm afraid there's none.” He clears his throat in hopes of not sounding like a mechanical doll with rusting batteries. “But you can stay here for a while. I mean, they'll get tired of singing soon, won’t they?”

“Of course.”

“Is it okay that you're here? Do they know you're here?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Kyungsoo ushers him, cautious, keeping a distance. It's not the first time they have shared a room, and he privately berates himself for being nervous around Jongin.

“What are you watching?” Jongin scratches the corner of his eye as he checks the television screen.

“A documentary.”

“That's Animal Planet, Mr. Do. And it's about strutting and rutting rituals in the animal kingdom. Interesting.”

“Jesus, not that.” Kyungsoo charges toward the remote control, landing next to Jongin as he dives onto the mattress. He changes the channel. Jongin huffs a laugh. “Very funny, Mr. Kim.”

“No judgment.”

“God, I shouldn't have let you in.”

“You can use some company.” Jongin shrugs. He marches into the veranda. “It's a beautiful night. You better come out here and see for yourself.”

Kyungsoo hesitates. He makes a mental list of why he cannot possibly like Jongin. First, Jongin is a c-suite executive, and the idea of falling for your boss only exists in books and movies. Second, Jongin is likely straight, and for the love of god, Kyungsoo has been there before. It's the worst type of heartbreak. Third, Jongin is in a happy relationship with Jennie, and being the conniving secretary isn't a flattering option either. Not to mention he's probably not Jongin's type. People have told him his eyes are too round and huge. Kyungsoo can enumerate a hundred reasons.

He joins Jongin in the veranda and looks up, nothing but tiny sequin-silver, luminous stars across the sky. Jongin tilts his head, staring upward, and suddenly, something in Kyungsoo falls.

“Such a safe moment, huh,” Jongin says. “It feels surreal. Being here. Away from work. _With you._ ”

“With me?”

“Yeah, we’ve never actually had the chance to be ourselves together, have we?”

“I don’t know what exactly that means, Mr. Kim, but you’re right about being away from work. It’s a refreshing thought.”

Jongin’s face drops. He doesn’t push the subject further. “You haven’t shown me your research proposal, by the way. I’m not one to forget.”

“Aren’t you busy?”

“You know my schedule. You know what I do every single day.”

“But I'm pretty sure you've got stuff to do outside work – things that aren’t in your work calendar.”

Jongin's eyebrows crease. “Like what?”

_Fuck it_ , Kyungsoo decides. “Like having dinner with your girlfriend. Oh, right, you did ask me to book a reservation at Suiran for your anniversary.”

“That’s a gift for Mr. and Mrs. Ong’s golden anniversary,” Jongin clarifies. “I don’t have a girlfriend, Mr. Do.”

“Ms. Jennie?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously.”

Jongin heaves a sigh. “It's not that serious,” he says. “Her parents are two of the biggest investors in the company. They've arranged dates for us countless times. Jennie and I are fully aware of that, but she's – how do I say this? She's sort of a wild child. She plays around, and I just – I'm fine with it. We do what adults do.”

Kyungsoo blinks at him. “I’m sorry, you mean, a fling?”

“Work can be quite stressful, so it's not a crime to be physically close and touchy with another human being.”

“Physically close and touchy. Okay. That’s smooth.”

“What?” Jongin scowls at him. “Mr. Do, sex is fun. There's nothing to be embarrassed about it.”

“I don't wanna hear the details,” Kyungsoo says, trudging back to the room.

“Sure! Sorry about that what you saw at the banquet!”

“Oh dear Jesus, pluck my eyes out.”

* * *

“Kyungsoo, you're here, I've missed you!” Ryeowook hollers as he rushes to welcome Kyungsoo with a tight embrace. “I'm about to whoop your boss's ass for stealing your weekends away from me.” He chuckles. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, it was incredible. I wish you were there.”

“Oh, please, I'd be there if the Kims invited me.”

Kyungsoo wears a youthful smile. “You look amazing tonight. I can't wait to hear your new song.”

“I'm as stoked as you!” Ryeowook wraps an arm around Kyungsoo's shoulder as he walks him to the venue. “Junmyeon is here with someone, but I bet he's here for you.” He pokes Kyungsoo's side in an attempt to tease him. Kyungsoo glowers. “Tell me, do you like him?”

“Hyung,” Kyungsoo whines. “He's a nice guy, but–”

“But what? He’s the whole package! All I'm saying is you and Junmyeon are a perfect match, and don't you worry, I'll support your relationship with him. I promise I'll spoil your kids and be a funny, responsible uncle.”

“Jesus, you've gone that far in less than ten seconds.”

Finally, Ryeowook and Kyungsoo locate the booth where Junmyeon is seated. In a fleeting panic, Junmyeon's body jerks upright. Flustered and agitated, he meets Kyungsoo face-to-face.

“Hi,” Junmyeon greets. “Ryeowook told me you were coming.”

“You must be Kyungsoo,” the person behind him says, rising to his feet. He's a gracious man, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, with a poetic charm. “I'm Byun Baekhyun.” He bows. “I've been looking forward to meeting you.”

It's not that he's afraid of Baekhyun. He's more afraid of how Jongin might react to him having an unexpected rendezvous with his archenemy. Kyungsoo's mind balloons with questions. Can he trust Baekhyun? Does Baekhyun know he's associated with Jongin? What has motivated Baekhyun to join him and Junmyeon? Regardless, he accepts the handshake. “Likewise,” Kyungsoo says. “I hope you're having a great night, Mr. Byun.”

“Mr. Byun?” Baekhyun echoes with a chuckle. “Please call me Baekhyun. There's no need to be formal.” He reverses to Ryeowook. “I'm thrilled to see your performance, Ryeowook. Good luck.”

“Thank you,” Ryeowook says, delighted. “I'll join you guys later, okay?” He bids them goodbye, then heads for the stage to acknowledge the guests.

Kyungsoo sits next to Junmyeon. “You must be enjoying your own show,” he says in an undertone.

“He insisted,” Junmyeon explains. “Let's not complicate the situation, Kyungsoo. He means well.”

With that, Kyungsoo dismisses the subject. He signals the server to order a drink. Perhaps some liquid courage will help him get through the night.

“So, Kyungsoo, Junmyeon tells me you're currently enrolled in a master's degree program in business administration,” Baekhyun says, his fingers running along the stem of his wine glass.

“Um, that's right.”

“I believe you're Jongin's executive secretary, too. How do you juggle work and school? I'm impressed with your ability to deal with the headache.”

Kyungsoo fidgets, rubbing his arm. “It's both fun and challenging. That's what keeps me grounded.” He nods inwardly. “I guess when there's something to learn from the experience, the spark doesn't fade easily.”

Baekhyun leans against the table. “Which translates to Jongin's capability to influence your views and bring the best in you? Is that the case?”

“It's not really about Mr. Kim,” Kyungsoo tries to defend.

“That's strange. Junmyeon, have you ever mentioned to him that you beat Jongin in business school and earned the internship he fought for?” Baekhyun asks.

“Baekhyun, it's in the past,” Junmyeon says curtly.

“Still, it does matter. A whole lot.” Baekhyun downs the final sip of his wine. “Jongin wouldn't spend an extra year in business school if he studied well as much as you did.”

“Baekhyun, please,” Junmyeon warns.

“I'm sorry, Kyungsoo. Sometimes I run my mouth a bit too much.” Baekhyun grins at him, and Kyungsoo knows it’s not friendly at all. “Maybe you should ask Jongin. Just be careful.”

* * *

Junmyeon invites Kyungsoo for a drive. Before he knows, they have reached a nearby park that overlooks the entire city. They stand near a lamp post, tall and bright, serving enough light, its warmth hovering like a blanket over their heads. Junmyeon leans against the fence, his eyes wandering around until his gaze lingers on Kyungsoo.

“I'm sorry if Baekhyun made you uncomfortable,” Junmyeon says. “You had nothing to do with what happened between me and Jongin, and I honestly wish I met you in a better situation – somewhere less complicated.”

Kyungsoo gives him a once-over, and almost immediately, he notices how Junmyeon's expression loses its armor. “I'm not mad at you, Junmyeon. Why do you keep apologizing?”

“Maybe because I'm afraid you haven't forgiven me?”

“I have.”

“I'll be in Switzerland for a month,” Junmyeon says after a pause, earning Kyungsoo's full attention. “Kyungsoo, you know I like you, right?”

Kyungsoo glances at him, then does a double-take. “What?” His mouth freezes halfway open, caught off guard. He stays quiet for a long while. “Junmyeon, I–”

“I've been thinking about you a lot, and it may sound crazy and rushed, but you deserve to know the truth, and I need to be honest with how I feel about you.” Junmyeon doesn't break eye contact. His voice loses its soft edges, replaced with a steely resolve. “I like you a lot, Kyungsoo. When I hear you laugh hysterically at a joke, no matter how terrible it seems, it does something to me, and I want to hear that laugh every time I'm with you.”

There is a slight heat that spreads on Kyungsoo's face and neck. He has heard many confessions from both men and women before, but Junmyeon's is by far the sweetest. He lets the words sink in him, remembering the times they have spent together, wondering why his mind seems to drift off to a different person.

“You're speechless. I'm not sure if that's a good sign.”

“I'm listening.”

“You don't really have to say anything,” Junmyeon says. “No pressure. For what it's worth, I'm happy with the fact that you're here and I've managed to tell you without stuttering.” He laughs a little grimly.

“Junmyeon, I'm sorry.” Kyungsoo's expression spells hurt and distress. “I enjoy talking to you; I enjoy our conversations and I value our friendship. I don't want to lose you as a friend, but I want you to know that I don’t see this going into anything more than what we have right now.”

“Oh.” Junmyeon swallows hard, nodding. “I understand.” He gives him a smile that doesn't stretch quite as wide nor glow as bright. “You’re right. You and I are better off as friends. I'm fine with that.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“Kyungsoo, it's all right. Again, you don't have to say anything.”

“When are you leaving for Sweden?” Kyungsoo asks.

Junmyeon groans in feigned frustration. “I thought you were listening! Switzerland, not Sweden.”

Kyungsoo smacks a hand over his temple. “Oh my god, I'm sorry. Switzerland, yeah.”

“In two weeks. I was wondering, do you have, like, plans?”

“Just business meetings and classes. Mr. Kim and I will be in Busan for a couple days, too.”

“Of course, Jongin's got your schedule all booked for himself.”

“I mean, yeah, it's work.”

“Lucky him.”


	9. Closer to the Edge

The cleaning staff may have spent a significant amount of time preparing for Jongin's arrival in Busan. There is still the faint scent of lavender in the room. The desk’s glass surface has been decluttered of nonessential documents, arranged with a desktop computer, an office telephone, and a cylinder lampshade.

After a knock, a young lady serves a kettle tray on the coffee table. She bows politely and receives a muttered _thank you_ from Kyungsoo.

“Would you like some tea?” he asks in a moderated voice. The heated exchanges during the meeting have revealed the transaction with a high-profile client is at stake. It's a project that Jongin cannot afford to lose. Kyungsoo understands how difficult it must be for him to handle the situation, considering the vast sums of money involved.

“Mr. Do, have you ever doubted me?” Jongin begins, peering through the floor-to-ceiling window. “Do you believe the things you've read about me?”

The question squeezes at Kyungsoo's brain. He plods toward Jongin. “I did,” he admits. He remembers the malicious rumors Chanyeol keeps sharing with him. “I made a mistake.” He pauses, waiting for Jongin to speak, but the silence only allows him to obliterate the baseless criticism against Jongin. “You're not so bad.”

Jongin smiles halfheartedly. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I wish it did make you feel better.”

“Why do people assume executives live a life of luxury? Or that they own a private jet to fly them around the world?”

“For the record, I figured you didn't have one when we went to Shanghai.”

“My father preferred commercial flights. It was arguably the best decision he had ever made from a financial perspective. He liked traveling because it gave him the opportunity to connect with people or even meet potential investors.”

“He must be a very humble man.”

Jongin nods in agreement. “I often wondered what it would be like between me and Baekhyun if father was still alive.”

“Would you mind if I asked why?”

“Baekhyun's father and my father treated each other with grudging respect and mutual distrust,” Jongin says, moving across the room to pour himself and Kyungsoo a cup of tea. “Baekhyun, Junmyeon, and I developed quite a friendship back in the day. Shocking, yeah. We studied in the same university. I almost believed Baekhyun had good intentions, but they betrayed me. I failed a course and spent an extra year in business school.” He turns back to Kyungsoo and serves him the tea. “It turned out Baekhyun's father talked to the higher-ups. They made Junmyeon top the exams to cover Baekhyun's plans against me. You’d never imagine how terrible I felt.”

“I'm sorry,” Kyungsoo mumbles.

Jongin takes a slow sip of tea. “I lost the chance to apply for the internship program I dreamt of. But I realized I didn't have to be in the best company because I could build the best company.” He meets Kyungsoo eye-to-eye. “Don't look at me like that. I don't want you to pity me and I don't want you to despise Junmyeon as much as I do. It's something that shouldn’t affect you.”

“Did you confront them?”

“They denied it.” Jongin sits on the swivel chair. “And I let it be.”

“Listen. You're an inspiration, Mr. Kim, and I don't mean that in a patronizing way. I just think you're really impressive and respectable and accomplished. It's hard not to admire you.” Kyungsoo's grip on the cup tightens as Jongin flashes him that boyish smile he does when he's pleased.

“Thank you, Mr. Do.”

“So, is it too late for us to get Chairman Lee's approval?”

“No, not at all. I'll take care of that.”

“Of course, you will.”

* * *

There is a woman on the shoulder of the road. She throws an arm in the air as she speaks over the phone, furious, pacing back and forth.

Kyungsoo swerves to a vacant spot, behind the woman's car, debating whether or not to offer help.

The woman works on the engine several times, but the attempts remain unsuccessful, then there come the drops, falling from the sky of gray clouds, straight to the now-quenched soil. She kicks the door shut, perhaps muttering a string of curse words, and rounds the vehicle as if searching for a possible flat tire.

It's the final cue for Kyungsoo. He hops out, flinging an umbrella before approaching the woman. “Hello,” he greets. “Is there a problem? Can I give you a hand?”

The woman sends him a passive stare. “No,” she says tersely. She brushes a stray tendril of hair off her cheek.

A cabriolet passes by them, and a foreigner yells at the woman, “Hey there, sexy!”

“Asshole!” Kyungsoo shoots back immediately. He sighs in embarrassment. “Sorry about that. Men are truly–”

“Revolting? Trash? Yeah, fuck them,” the woman says through gritted teeth.

Kyungsoo removes his jacket. “Don't get me wrong, I'm lending you my jacket because it's cold out here.” He extends the piece of clothing to her direction. She hesitates. “Clothes have nothing to do with harassment. Some people just enjoy acting like douchebags.” In the end, the woman accepts the jacket and puts it over her shoulders.

“Chaerin.”

“Kyungsoo.”

“Well, Kyungsoo, I must thank you for your kindness. You seem like a real gentleman, and meeting you under the rain is disgustingly cheesy and romantic, but I'm not interested.”

“Me neither.”

Chaerin’s mouth twitches. “Excuse me?”

“I don't swing that way.”

“ _Oh_.”

“Do you need a ride, though?”

“My clothes are wet. And what about my car?”

“We'll figure it out.”

* * *

The shop is wedged in a line of jewelry and accessory stores, luxury boutiques, and art stalls, but it graces customers with a sterile, airconditioned space. There are uniformed saleswomen in neat buns, and they greet every customer like well-rehearsed, soon-to-be actresses in an audition. 

“May I help you?” one of the saleswomen asks, looking at Chaerin from head to toe. She gives Chaerin's wet hair a judging gaze.

“No, thank you. I've got my boyfriend here to help me.” She forces a smile, which the lady takes as a hint to leave the two by themselves. Chaerin paws over the rack of clothes.

“I'm not your boyfriend,” Kyungsoo gripes. He might have to rethink about being a gentleman and coming with Chaerin. “I told you, I don't swing that way.”

“Oh, gorgeous. Better match my size.” Chaerin picks a sundress. She brings at least three garments to try on as she heads for the fitting room.

Kyungsoo sits on the ottoman, waiting. It takes Chaerin approximately five minutes to wind up. “Oh my god, is that my grandma's curtain?” He snickers, and Chaerin frowns as she checks herself out through the mirror.

“Yeah, you're right,” Chaerin agrees after a beat. “It's suffocating my boobs, too.” She cringes, then chooses a crochet halter top paired with denim shorts. She winks at Kyungsoo. “Pretty, isn't it?”

“Not in a twenty degrees weather,” Kyungsoo supplies, earning a scoff from Chaerin. “But you rock it! Really. It’s fantastic.”

“I'm buying it then.”

“Well, should I get you some shoes? Boots or pumps?”

“Holy shit, yes! Shopping!”

The clock ticks from four to six o'clock. Chaerin's arms are filled with shopping bags as she stalks behind Kyungsoo. “Dinner is on me,” she says.

“I appreciate the gesture but I have to go back to the hotel,” Kyungsoo explains. He needs to prepare for tomorrow, and if he fails to deliver the output on time, Jongin will surely blow a gasket. Kyungsoo tries to reason with Chaerin. “I'll send you to your place or drop you off somewhere convenient.”

“Oh, come on, Kyungsoo. I'm hungry.” Chaerin pouts at him. “I know a place. I promise not to hold you hostage for more than an hour. Just don't let me die of starvation, please?”

“Just one hour.”

“I promise, just one hour.”

They arrive at a local restaurant where they order spicy chicken tenders and black bean noodles. It's almost surprising for Kyungsoo to hear Chaerin rambling on about the boy bands she admires and how she used to attend concerts in and out of the country. Chaerin doesn't spare a single detail, including the fact that she keeps a photobook of her favorite idols.

“I miss being a fool for them,” Chaerin says with a sigh. “Life's been tough lately. Being an adult is a fucking nightmare.”

In the middle of the conversation, Kyungsoo's phone starts vibrating with the name Kim Jongin displayed on the screen. He doesn’t answer the call.

Chaerin notices. “Is it your boyfriend?”

“I wish,” Kyungsoo says, dismayed. He flips his phone to the other side.

Chaerin eyes him, though not in a suspicious or cautious manner, but rather, in a curious way. “Tell me about him.”

“I can't.”

“You can't what?”

“I can't – I just can't. He's probably straight.”

“Have you tried flirting with him?”

“No, I mean, really, I've been into relationships before. It's usually easy for me to initiate the first move, but with him, it feels – it's inappropriate.” Kyungsoo struggles for the right words, not spilling the important details. “Hopeless, to add.”

“Oh, hell no, what is he even like?”

Kyungsoo empties his soda. “He’s electrifying,” he begins. “He’s tall, not conventionally attractive, but he fits every definition of beautiful, at least to me. He smells nice, too.”

“How nice?” Chaerin asks, wiggling an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t be weird.” He scowls.

“Okay, fine. Go on.”

“He rarely smiles, and when he does, it’s like the sun, the moon, and the stars are shining right at you. He’s passionate about work. _Very_. I can’t describe how much he inspires me. He can be too bold, too stubborn, a little opinionated, but I think I like him for that. Yeah, I think I like him.” Kyungsoo nods at his confession. “I _do_ like him.”

Chaerin blinks in awe. “Jesus Christ, you're absolutely whipped!”

“I'm not,” Kyungsoo defends.

“Are you telling me you're in an Adam and Steve situation of sorts? Oh, is he the forbidden fruit that you're not supposed to eat? Kyungsoo, for fuck's sake, you're obviously starving!”

“Let it go.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a pussy. Do something. Make your momma proud.”

“Jesus, Chaerin, my momma is dead, and I bet she'd disown me for chasing a man.”

Chaerin groans, shaking her head. “You know what, you seem like a genuinely nice person, and if that Kim Jongin is a willing man, I hope he sees you for who you are.” She beams. “My ex was a piece of shit. It took me months to swallow the fact that he wanted nothing to do with me. Fucking asswipe. Broke up with me over text.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Oh, please. I'm over him. If you focus on the hurt, you suffer. If you focus on the lesson, you grow. I've learned that when you start taking care of yourself, you start feeling better, you start looking better, and you might even start attracting someone better.”

Kyungsoo squeezes Chaerin's hand. “You're a superwoman, Chaerin.”

Chaerin reprises the smile. “I'm glad we met.”

It's nine-thirty in the evening. The streets are practically barren and quiet, succumbing to slumber, with fewer passersby and vehicles. Kyungsoo eases the car in front of a residential tower that stretches approximately sixty floors.

“You live here?” he asks Chaerin, amazed by the structure.

Chaerin just grins. “Thank you for sending me home, and of course, for keeping me company. I'd probably be on the road, hitching a lift if you didn't come rescue me. You're an actual knight in shining armor.” She bids farewell Kyungsoo with a quick embrace. “Kim Jongin would be such a fool.”

“Do you need help with your shopping bags?”

“No, they're not heavy. I'll be fine.”

Chaerin slips out of the car to grab the shopping bags from the compartment. “Time to go.”

“Can I get your number? I might visit Busan from time to time. It'll be nice to see you.”

“Shit, Kyungsoo. I thought you didn't swing that way.”

“Oh, god. Women are fantastic, powerful creatures, but they don't just hit me in the right spot.”

Chaerin waves him goodbye. “I'll call you.”

“Hold on.” Kyungsoo spots a business card stuck in the dashboard. He pulls it. “I'm not available 24/7,” he says, passing it to Chaerin.

Chaerin inspects the business card. “Do Kyungsoo,” she reads. “Okay, Mr. Do. You'll hear from me.”

* * *

The door swings open, prompting everybody to nod Jongin a good morning as he strides into the room. There are three key officers from the sales and marketing division, two software engineers, a research analyst, and Sungjae, the account manager. On the side of the table sits Kyungsoo, surrounded by vacant chairs. Jongin sits next to him.

“They'll be here in five,” Kyungsoo informs Jongin, glancing at the digital clock perched high on the wall.

“Where were you last night? You didn't answer my call,” Jongin says, sounding a bit stern.

“You called me beyond office hours.”

“And you could've at least texted and asked why.”

“One missed call doesn't mean emergency, Mr. Kim. You can tell me what happened after the meeting.”

A couple of minutes later, the visitors arrive, ushered by a formally dressed staff. Chairman Lee is a paunchy man in mid-sixties, with graying hair, sunken eyes, and a pugnacious expression. Behind him stands no other than Chaerin in a power suit and red stilettos. She oozes a villainous charm.

“Thank you for coming, Chairman Lee,” Jongin says.

Chairman Lee nods. “It seems like you have been too busy in Seoul,” he tells him point-blank. “Do not disappoint me, Mr. Kim.”

“Absolutely.”

“I'd like you to meet Lee Chaerin, my granddaughter. She’s the Vice President of the company.”

“Perfect,” Jongin says. He initiates a handshake between him and Chaerin. “It's a pleasure.”

“Likewise,” Chaerin says. “Oh, I've heard a lot of things about you, Mr. Kim.” She casts Kyungsoo a brief knowing look.

Jongin smiles. “I certainly hope they're good things.”

“Shall we start?”

“Yes, please.”

Jongin modulates into his lecture voice as he leads the meeting. With the output from the sales and marketing office, he captures Chairman Lee's interest. Chairman Lee, however, demands more time to decide. He emphasizes how huge the business proposition is. Chaerin agrees, granted that they are dealing with millions and millions of cash.

Meanwhile, Kyungsoo is doomed for good. He and Chaerin have been exchanging glances across the table for the past hour. By the time Jongin has concluded today's arrangement, he instantly follows Chaerin and waits for her to come out of the women's comfort room.

“Mr. Do,” Chaerin says in a derisive tone.

“You didn't tell me about being the VP.” Kyungsoo tries not to sound agitated and fails at it.

“Well, you didn't tell me about Kim Jongin being your boss.”

“Jesus, Chaerin. You knew he was my boss the moment you saw his name.”

“You're right. He's quite hot. I just don't like his hair.”

Kyungsoo sighs, eyes squeezed shut. “Are you going to tell him?”

“Tell him what?” Chaerin feigns innocence. “Oh, that he smiles like the sun, the moon, and the stars are shining right at you?” She laughs, and Kyungsoo flushes hard. “Come on, Kyungsoo. I'm not an asshole. He's your business. You tell him whenever the fuck you want.”

“Is that a promise?”

“No, I can't promise you but I've got you a deal. You need to reduce the quotation. Ten percent. Eight percent tops.”

“We’re a solutions-based company. Our prices reflect the quality of our services. You get what you pay for.”

“Oh, you're a salesman now?”

“I have no control over the quotation. I'm not from sales.”

“Exactly.” Chaerin inches closer to him. “Trust me, Kyungsoo. I've seen Byun Baekhyun's proposal, and it's very competitive. You have one hell of a match. It's either you lower your quotation and tweak your proposal or you lose the five-year-long business with my grandfather. As much as I want to side with you, I just can't. It's Chairman Lee. He's a powerhouse. I can help you but I can't fight him.”

“No shit?”

“No shit!”

“Fine,” Kyungsoo decides. “I'll do what I can.”

“Email me the revised copy, and the deal is done.”

* * *

“Sungjae, do you have a second?” Kyungsoo asks, standing in the doorway of Sungjae's office.

Sungjae plops into the couch and stares at the ceiling in a deflated gaze. “Did Mr. Kim send you here to grill me some more? I told you I didn't mean to yell at Chairman Lee. That was one time, okay? And I apologized for my mistake. I regretted it.”

Kyungsoo sits beside him. “Yeah, the message could have been delivered in a polite manner, but you were brave enough to defend yourself.”

“I'd probably get fired by tomorrow. I don't think Chairman Lee is considering the proposal. I’ve had countless meetings with him. He’s all talk. “

“What if there was a way?”

It takes Kyungsoo almost half an hour to convince Sungjae to consider his suggestions. Without further ado, Sungjae proceeds to Jongin's office to discuss with him the revision.

He stays outside, biting his nail while tapping a foot against the wood flooring. Kyungsoo finds it nerve-wracking to wait for Sungjae alone. He knows Jongin can be too detailed in major projects such as Chairman Lee's.

Finally, the door opens. Sungjae walks to Kyungsoo. “How did it go?” Kyungsoo asks, his eyes bulging a bit in anticipation.

Sungjae's mouth curls into a bright grin. “He said okay!” He initiates a high-five with Kyungsoo. “He had a bunch of questions. Typical Mr. Kim. But I made a few valid points. He was convinced.”

“Well done, Sungjae.” Kyungsoo pats Sungjae on the shoulder.

“Thank you, Kyungsoo. I can't wait to hear the good news.”

* * *

It's quarter to six when Kyungsoo stops by Sungjae's office and finds him preparing to leave the building. He gives him a double thumbs-up, then trudges straight to Jongin's office. The man is on the phone but wraps up the conversation with the caller as soon as he sees Kyungsoo.

“You made it,” Kyungsoo says.

“ _We_ made it,” Jongin corrects.

“Congratulations, Mr. Kim.”

“I thought it'd take them a day and I got a call from Ms. Lee.”

Kyungsoo's face drains of color. “Did she tell you anything?”

Jongin nods. “Actually, she did.”

“What would that be?” Kyungsoo swears he’s about to revolt.

“She asked me if I'd love to bring her on a date.”

A sense of relief washes over Kyungsoo. “Did you say yes?”

“I said it'd be better to keep things professional.”

“Of course.”

“After all, we're going back to Seoul. Are you free Saturday evening?”

“Um, yeah. Do I have to work Saturday?”

Jongin chuckles. “No, we'll go celebrate.”

* * *

Kyungsoo arrives a few minutes earlier than the supposed time. He settles at the front bar and observes the bartender's movements, hoping to find comfort in distraction. It’s ridiculous how he may have wasted a chunk of time rummaging through the closet for a wrinkle-free shirt. He admits that being with Jongin alone causes him to mentally trip, fall, and scrape a knee. There is the palpable fear of crossing the line, and at the end of the rope, there is the violent thrill of playing with fire.

The clocks are ticking fast. Kyungsoo's mind flickers back to reality. He should have not entertained the thought of liking Jongin, or the way Jongin smiles at him from across the room, or the frequency of them sitting too close, their bodies magnetized and unapologetic.

“You have a date?” the bartender asks. He’s a willowy young man with a bowtie.

“Not really, it's a friend,” Kyungsoo says, hoping he doesn't sound wheezy.

“A friend, huh.” The bartender nods. He glances at him and does a double-take. “With that look?”

How obvious can Kyungsoo be? He’s here to celebrate the closed sale with Jongin, not to conduct a poorly-researched presentation filled with spinning headers and explosive sound effects.

“You're on the edge of your seat, brother.” The bartender drops a shot of vodka on the bar top. “It's on me. I don't have a glamorous life and I've been perpetually single for years, but I can't let a newfound customer's date crash and burn.”

Kyungsoo hesitates to accept the drink.

“Trust me, you need liquid courage in your bloodstream before your _friend_ comes.” The bartender grins at him.

Kyungsoo is pleasantly surprised by the gesture. He downs the shot.

“Feisty.”

The gush of Jongin's voice leaves him with mounting agitation, which straight-up convinces Kyungsoo to spend the night dumping a bunch of liquor on top of it, spin the wheel of doom, and see what comes tumbling down.

_Jesus Christ._ Jongin looks dangerously attractive in an all-black outfit. Kyungsoo's throat constricts as if stifling a hiccup. He checks the bartender's reaction and earns a wink from him.

“Starting off strong with vodka? You okay?” Jongin asks, lifting a finger to order.

“Yeah, it's tough to appreciate the sweet without the bitter,” Kyungsoo says. He's partially grateful for the free booze.

“I'll stick with wine. Taemin said vodka had me speaking foreign languages. I'd like to keep the remaining shreds of respect you have for me.”

Kyungsoo chuckles. “I'm more surprised that Mr. Lee remembers you speaking foreign languages.”

“He was sober.”

“Thank goodness.”

“Taemin and I have been friends since college. We were in different worlds for years after he moved to London with his brother. When he returned to Seoul, he was a completely transformed person. I'd never be able to salvage the company without him.”

“You'd probably not believe it, but he was the first person to approach me in the office.”

“I know.”

“You know?” Kyungsoo's memory drifts through the past – loathing Jongin as a boss, and on the worst occasion, as a human.

Jongin pursues another sip of wine. “You get along with a lot of people. I notice. You're sociable and calm. I'm sure you have many friends around the city.” He does a show of thinking. “Yeah, I remember Yixing. How is he?”

“Yixing hyung is fine. He'll be back to Changsha next month. I've got a couple friends here, though.”

“Really? You spend your Friday nights with them?”

“Weekends, except that tonight I'm not.” Kyungsoo grins slightly. “My best friend leads a band. He's amazing. He sings at bars.”

“Are you talking about the friend doting on Jinah?”

“Oh, no. That's Chanyeol. We go to grad school together. He's business savvy, like you.”

“Does he strictly use a pen with black ink, too?”

Kyungsoo chuckles. Blue ink ruins Jongin's day. “No, but he writes in extremely legible characters.”

“Wow, I'm jealous,” Jongin says despondently.

There is a pause that allows Kyungsoo to soak in the chatter from the nearby booths and the music from the in-ceiling speakers. “You did a great job on your presentation,” Kyungsoo says.

“Sungjae told me about your conversation,” Jongin retorts, and Kyungsoo's mouth gapes in horror. “I thought the changes were necessary. You could have said something. To me, directly.”

“I was – I just felt like I wasn't in the right position.” Kyungsoo blanches, embarrassed and confronted, his ears burning hot.

“Of course, I totally understand how much you respect Sungjae's authority.”

“He's in charge of the project. It's his call.”

Jongin nods. “You know, I've been thinking. Should I give Chaerin a chance? Nothing serious. A thank you dinner won't hurt, will it?”

Kyungsoo's expression stays stoic. “Yeah, why not? She'll appreciate it.”

“I feel terrible for rejecting her on the spot.”

“Do you want me to book a fancy place for you?”

“No, not yet. She's very straightforward, isn't she?”

“Do you like her?” Kyungsoo asks pointedly.

“No, she's not exactly my type.”

“What's your type?” _Oh, shit, is it the alcohol?_ Kyungsoo shifts on the chair to face Jongin.

Jongin huffs a laugh. “Come on, are we going to talk about this?”

Kyungsoo shrugs. “I'm genuinely curious.”

“You tell me,” Jongin challenges. “What do you think?”

There is an obstacle refraining Kyungsoo from taking it further, but he crosses it, almost willingly. He doesn't waver from how Jongin seems to close the distance, and somewhere between amused and terrified settles at the back of Kyungsoo's mind. “Well,” he starts. “The Kim Jongin I know isn't as superficial as I expected.”

“Why are you talking in third person? I'm literally in front of you.” Jongin chuckles again.

“Okay, fine.” Kyungsoo exhales. “ _You_. Your type is probably someone independent because your job demands an insane amount of attention, someone low maintenance and fun and insightful, definitely not the pretentious kind, someone with a pretty face and a critical eye for the world, someone who understands what you do and how you do it, someone with a legitimate purpose. I don’t know, maybe, someone you can call your partner, your lover, and your friend.” Kyungsoo frowns at him. “I'm running out of descriptions! Why don’t you tell me?”

“I don’t have to because you’re quite right, and that sounds like someone I know,” Jongin smiles, gazing at him, and Kyungsoo is certain the eye contact lingers longer than usual. “How about a toast?” Jongin offers. “To more successes.”

The nine seconds of silence has left Kyungsoo's race pulsing at a frightening rate. “To more successes,” he says as he clinks glasses with Jongin.

Despite Jongin's austere and self-contained attitude in the office, he doesn't pretend to be perfect and is shamelessly a human, can talk about current events, social issues, as well as art, music, and film. He makes the conversation more dynamic, leaping from topic to topic, laughing, whispering. He might be a few years older than Kyungsoo, but Jongin enjoys the banter between them. He shoots with a “Would you rather never be able to wear pants or never be able to wear shorts?” to which Kyungsoo responds “If I chose the latter, you'd be laughing at me every single day.”

Kyungsoo fires back with a “Would you rather be able to teleport anywhere or be able to read minds?” to which Jongin says “It'd be cool to have both, but I'd like to read your mind. Right now.”

Kyungsoo doesn't dig deeper into it and just laughs it off.

In such an intimate space, Kyungsoo gets stuck on how Jongin's mouth forms over the roof of his wine glass, how Jongin's skin shines in the play of the nightlight, how Jongin's arm muscle flexes under his shirt, and goddamn, Kyungsoo's head is doing all sorts of crazy shit that he has been dodging for the past hours – months, to be precise. It's too impossible for him not to notice Jongin’s gentle yet teasing smiles. Kyungsoo is a goner.

“Would you rather I go down on you or you go down on me?” Kyungsoo asks. The words are spoken with confidence. It's obvious how airier and more authentic he sounds in such a flighty moment that only tipsy or drunk people can survive.

Jongin’s expression changes drastically, processing, stupefied by the direct question. He leans back and tilts a calculating look at Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo devises an escape strategy as he excuses himself and totters away to the comfort room. With a cold splash of water on the face, he stands at the sink, staring back at the disaster of a person in the mirror, thinking for a long while. It's a self-inflicted, vicious torture, accompanied by a hangover. He pulls at his shirt to loosen it. _God._ He knows Jongin's temper too damn well, and for a man that doesn't tolerate unreasonably delayed email responses, Kyungsoo's chances are slim to none. Jongin may have left the bar without a goodbye.

The alcohol-induced courage drags Kyungsoo's feet to the corridor. One step. Two steps. Three steps. Then a halt. The space curves around him, with Jongin standing on the opposite side, bathing in the dim light.

Kyungsoo's first instinct is to avoid him, but he doesn't, and for once, he surrenders to the situation. He mirrors Jongin, listening to the distant music. No words. No interruptions. Just silence.

It takes him a second to realize that he's caught between the wall and Jongin, and with the height difference, he feels small and cornered under Jongin's gaze. Kyungsoo's body tenses like a taut bowstring, ready to break for it at a moment's notice.

“Do you want me to answer your question?” Jongin asks in a voice that is soft but layered with depth.

Kyungsoo gives a strained-sounding laugh. “Do I?”

“Right here?” The slow cadence of Jongin's speech becomes more apparent. He grabs Kyungsoo's hand and guides it over his chest, up to his shoulder, until it reaches the back of his neck.

The innocent yet reckless touch grows desperate as Kyungsoo's fingers slip further, gently, boldly, caressing the roots of Jongin's hair, tangled in the strands. Kyungsoo breathes at shallow intervals, aching for more. He shivers as Jongin's hand outlines the arch of his back, up and down his spine, his muscles rigid under the fabric.

Kyungsoo's mind is locked into the moment – all secrets and restrictions laid bare. He allows Jongin to lean forward, and he likes how his lips brush against Jongin's. “We shouldn't,” Kyungsoo says, retreating from the contact. “It’s really late. I have to go.” He swallows thickly as if the words have been stuck in his throat. “Good night, Jongin.”

He leaves the building as fast as he can.

The bartender sighs.


	10. One Moment

_Fucking Mondays._

There should be a scientific study that states Mondays are longer than the other days of the week because Kyungsoo's body seems to be extra responsive to the cozy weather, and have, in fact, programmed itself that going to work means facing the horror of being half-drunk, half-horny in front of Jongin. He's royally screwed. If Cinderella lived in the real world, she would be disappointed with how Kyungsoo shimmied away from the midnight kiss like he had a curfew or something.

By the time he reaches the headquarters, Kyungsoo begs for the sweet release of death. His palms are sweaty, and worse, his latte has turned cold.

The floor seems to sway under Kyungsoo's feet as he ventures toward Jongin's office. He finds him standing at attention, with papers in one hand and coffee in the other.

“Hi.” He sounds like he's vision-boarding his own funeral. No visible reaction from Jongin. Not even a glance, not even a hello. “Good morning,” he tries again. Another pin-drop silence. “You've got a conference call in fifteen minutes, a product meeting at ten o'clock, and you have some papers to sign from Mr. Jang.”

Jongin puts down the cup of coffee on his desk. “Cancel the call. Move the meeting to ten-thirty,” he says in his signature businesslike tone. It's Jongin's usual way of gauging a tricky situation that troubles him, but Kyungsoo remains tight-lipped, unflinching.

Kyungsoo passes a document to Jongin. “Just let me know if you need anything else.”

“Are we okay?” Jongin asks him after a beat.

The question shifts Kyungsoo's mind back to the dark corner of the bar. He stops at the door. “Yeah, we're okay,” he says nonchalantly. Is he too sober to be honest? Perhaps. Kyungsoo, however, remembers every detail of that moment, from caressing Jongin's chest and neck to breathing Jongin's cologne, and goddamn, that clean, natural scent of Jongin's body drives him crazy, makes him want to kiss the fuck out of him, right here, right now.

“Taemin will be out later. Care to join me for lunch?” Jongin casts him an expectant gaze.

“Mr. Kim,” Kyungsoo admonishes. There is clearly no point in hiding from him.

Jongin looks affronted. “Is it Mr. Kim to you?”

“Can you please not bring that up?”

“Why not?”

“Because it's inappropriate to discuss non-work-related matters in the office.”

“And doing non-work-related _things_ outside the office is appropriate?” Jongin gripes. “Oh, come on, Kyungsoo, you and I both know what was happening. You acted weird about it and ran off.” He fixes him with a glare. “What was that?”

Kyungsoo's eyes wander to the farthest object in the room. “It was nothing.”

“Nothing?” Jongin slants an empty, humorless laugh at him. “I can't believe you'd rather be that kind of person than explain yourself.”

“Please, stop being upset about something that should've not happened in the first place.”

“I am _very_ upset.”

With that, Kyungsoo remains quiet for a while, trying to gather his thoughts in a mind map. “I'm sorry,” he says in a near-whisper. “I mean, really, what am I supposed to do? To feel?” He throws an arm in the air, defeated, his chest pounding with a mixture of emotions. “It's all confusing to me.”

“I know. I can tell.” And Jongin means it.

“Mr. Kim, I have complete respect for you and the position you hold in the company. I don't want to make things complicated between us.”

“What do you want?”

“It doesn't matter what I want.” 

Jongin flops on the chair. “Well then.” He nods, visibly unhappy.

“I'm so sorry,” Kyungsoo mutters.

“You may leave.”

* * *

The water from the faucet stops gushing. Kyungsoo's phone rings, and before he walks out of the comfort room, he answers the call. “This is surprising,” he says. “How is it possible I'm getting a call from you in the middle of the day? Aren't you always stuck in a meeting or something?”

“I'm about to sound cheesy but I make time for the people I care about,” Junmyeon says. He hears Kyungsoo give a soft chuckle. “Did you have a good meal? Fancy lunch with a colleague?”

“Jokes on you, your local café-goer had iced coffee and a blueberry muffin for lunch.”

“That's insane, and certainly, unhealthy.”

“I had a heavy breakfast run at Isaac. Left me full for hours.”

“Actually, do you, like, want to hang out after work? There's a new restaurant in the city.”

“Really? I've never heard of it.”

“Now, don't be mad. I'm kidding. There's no new restaurant. I just, you know, want to see you, Kyungsoo. I've still got a few days before I fly to Switzerland. Perhaps we can go to the theatrical show, too, if you're not busy. If you're, like, okay with having me around a little too long, I guess?”

Kyungsoo's face brightens. “I'll see you later, Junmyeon.” He hangs up. One of the cubicles creaks open, and there goes Taemin trudging toward the sink. “Mr. Lee.” Kyungsoo's stomach knots. _Of all people_ , he thinks.

“Looks like someone has a date,” Taemin says with a lopsided grin.

“No, it's not a date.”

“You don't have to be modest. And when the hell are you going to drop the formalities? I've literally told you a bazillion times to call me Taemin,” Taemin grumbles. “Listen, I understand that working here requires a lot, especially if you're under Jongin's wing. The pressure. The demands. The meetings. It can be stressful, yeah, and I'll tell you what, Kyungsoo, you deserve to be happy with someone that makes you laugh and forget about the giant clusterfuck surrounding you.”

Kyungsoo chooses not to probe. “Giant clusterfuck. I've never had such a perfect definition of my life.” He laughs. “Thank you, Taemin. I appreciate it. I mean, the pep talk, not the giant clusterfuck.”

Taemin pats Kyungsoo on the back. “Anytime.”

* * *

“Are you leaving?” Jongin asks, earning a slight nod from Kyungsoo. “You didn't forget about the report due last week, did you? You said you'd hand it over today.”

Kyungsoo holds back a curse. It has been a particularly shitty mess of a day. He may have prioritized the less important items in his to-do list and overlooked a couple of crucial tasks, including that report. That damned report. He's certain Jongin is going to castigate him for being irresponsible.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Kim,” he says.

Suddenly, Taemin comes from behind, clutching a bag of crackers, surprised to see Kyungsoo. “Why are you still here? I thought you had a date.”

“What date?” Jongin glances between Taemin and Kyungsoo. “What date?” he repeats louder.

Taemin almost chokes. “Well, you'll never meet the one for you if you're stuck in this place,” he says, chuckling, but Jongin doesn't seem amused. “Cut him some slack, Jongin. Dating isn't that bad, especially if you haven't been in the scene for years. Kyungsoo is an attractive man. He'll crush it.” He notices how Jongin's expression hardens and how Kyungsoo fidgets with the sleeve of his jacket. “Not to be nosy, but is everything okay here? I feel like you guys are fighting the urge to kill each other.”

“Mr. Do didn't do his job. A long-overdue report. How heedless can he be?” Jongin huffs.

“Oh.” Taemin rubs his temple. “Is it very important or very, very important? Can he do it tomorrow?”

“Absolutely not,” Jongin tells him, firm with his decision.

“I'll do it,” Kyungsoo decides. “I'm really sorry, Mr. Kim. I guarantee you it won't happen again.” He bows at Jongin and Taemin, then straight-up marches out of Jongin's office.

There is a knee-deep silence that envelops the room. Taemin chews as quietly as he can. It's not the best time to fire Jongin with facts, but he risks it. “You know who he's seeing, right?”

* * *

Junmyeon listens from the other end of the line. “I understand, Kyungsoo,” he says, sounding equally concerned and appalled. “I just can't believe Jongin told you to stay behind.”

“It's my fault,” Kyungsoo admits. “I think I'll have to take a raincheck. I'm sorry, Junmyeon. I know I've canceled a lot of plans with you before, and here you are, dealing with my excuses yet again.” He releases a long-suffering sigh. He spots Taemin through the glass corridor, waving a hand at him before mouthing an _are you okay_? Kyungsoo smiles and gestures a thumbs-up.

“Don't mention it. It's okay.” Junmyeon's voice is gentle and consoling. “I have an idea, and you're not gonna like it.”

“Let's hear the idea, then we'll decide.”

“Why don't you start working on the report? I'll be here in my office.”

“No, I can't let you wait, Junmyeon. That's too much.”

“I'm not in a hurry and I'm free the entire night.”

“Are you sure? Because you don't really have to do that for me.”

Junmyeon chuckles at him. “If it makes you feel better, I still need to attend to a few unread emails. Text me when you're done, okay?”

Two hours and six stretches. It's a strange request, but Kyungsoo heads for Jongin's office because the executive requires him to submit the report personally in a plain folder with proper, elaborate labeling. What surprises him even more is the fact that Jongin hasn't gone home. He pushes the door closed, and the sound catches Jongin's attention.

“Why are you still here?” Jongin asks, unmoved.

Kyungsoo wants to laugh. “Seriously?”

“Oh, right. You didn't do your job.”

“I already did.”

Jongin marches toward Kyungsoo, heels clacking on the marble tiles. “Did you tell Junmyeon to come here?”

“What?” Kyungsoo blinks. “Of course, I didn't. Why would I do that?”

“How should I know?” Jongin's tone hints sarcasm. Not a gratifying reaction. “You were never fair, Mr. Do. You spent your weekend with me and pretended like nothing happened, and all of a sudden, you decided to what? Date Junmyeon?”

The accusation is delivered in a fit of pique, but Kyungsoo doesn't let it slide. “I'm not dating him.”

A muscle in Jongin's jaw flexes. “Then what is he doing here?”

“I don't know, okay? Jongin, you're being insufferable.” Kyungsoo's voice raises a pitch. He hates how Jongin is steering the conversation to a subject he has been avoiding.

“Oh, and you're not?” Jongin challenges. “Listen carefully, Kyungsoo. I'm not that dense. I'm as fucking real as it gets.” He steps closer to him. “I don't pretend. That's the last thing I want to do in front of you. I've shown you who I am for the past months. This means something to me, and I know this means something to _you_.”

Kyungsoo's mouth moves and stops several times before he settles for a clipped response. “You're wrong.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Prove me,” Jongin says. He doesn't expect him to answer, so instead, he grabs Kyungsoo's face in both hands, pushes him up against the door, and kisses him.

Kyungsoo drops the folder, leaving the papers scattered across the floor, and he doesn't care because the press of Jongin's full lips are addicting, somewhere between careful and reckless. The world comes to a solid blur, and right in that moment, he can only focus on Jongin, the way every touch steals every word he cannot say to him, the way Jongin makes him literally breathless, and the way he's kissing him back with urgency.

It's probably messy, a bit too intense, but Kyungsoo melts into it, his arms wrapped around Jongin's neck. He opens his mouth and feels Jongin's tongue brushing against his. He lets out a pleased, muffled noise, coaxing him for another second, and again and again.

Kyungsoo's fingers trace Jongin's chest, reaching for the topmost button of his shirt, but before he can even continue, the realization hits him. He shoves Jongin strong enough that he stumbles backward. “Jesus, fuck,” he says under his breath.

The rise and fall of Jongin's shoulder leave Kyungsoo flushing like a peach in the sun. He wonders what he's thinking because Kyungsoo's brain has gone haywire and he's supremely embarrassed, burning, and tousled. He runs his fingers through his hair as if it would fix the situation.

Without turning back, he rushes out of Jongin's office.

Kyungsoo clicks the down button of the elevator furiously. He almost forgets about Junmyeon until he spots him stationed behind his car.

“Surprise!” Junmyeon greets him. Kyungsoo goes very still, practically blank and stoic. The smile on Junmyeon's face shrinks as Kyungsoo approaches him.

“You're here,” Kyungsoo says with tucked-away disappointment. “I thought we were supposed to meet at the restaurant.”

Junmyeon stiffens. “I'm sorry,” he says, and Kyungsoo watches him gulp. “This was a bad idea.”

Kyungsoo wants to punch himself in the throat. First, for being late. Second, for making Junmyeon feel terrible about picking him up from the headquarters. “You know what? It's okay.” He flashes him a reassuring grin. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

There is that infectious smile again – a classic Junmyeon attribute. “Look at you, you're doing great,” Junmyeon says as he ruffles Kyungsoo's hair. He tips a careful gaze at the headquarters. “It's even more impressive up-close.” He narrows his eyes. “I've never actually had a reason to be here, but I'm braver now because I have you beside me, like, I don't think I'll be able to set foot in Jongin's second home alone.”

“You don't really need me to do that, Junmyeon.”

“Trust me, I do. I just prefer keeping it casual.”

“I hate it when you use that word,” Kyungsoo quips, referring to _casual_. “You know what? I'm hungry.”

“Oh, yeah, I bet. Come on, let's get you some nice dinner.” Junmyeon beckons him to hop in the car. “Should we order beef bulgogi or chicken teriyaki?”

“Why not both?”

They reach a nearby restaurant of Junmyeon's choice. There are couples eating side by side, a group of tourists trying to decipher the menu, and commuters streaming in and out. It's the kind of place that offers a table on an impulse but welcomes the guests with a homey atmosphere and jazz music. The servers in smart matching garb are quick to assist the customers.

Kyungsoo orders after Junmyeon. They wait for the food to arrive as Junmyeon complains about how starving he is, and Kyungsoo laughs at him for choosing a meal that takes longer minutes to prepare.

Kyungsoo's phone buzzes in the middle of their conversation, and with the name Kim Jongin glaring at him, he ignores it. He catches Junmyeon staring at him in question. “Don't worry about it,” Kyungsoo says. In less than five seconds, his phone starts ringing again. “Oh, god, let me live for a few hours.” He groans.

“Do you mind?” Junmyeon asks.

“Junmyeon, no, no, he won't be too happy to hear your voice.”

“Well, me neither.” Junmyeon answers the call. “Hi, Jongin, you've reached Kyungsoo's phone, and in case you've forgotten, he doesn't entertain work-related inquiries beyond office hours. You shouldn't be bothering your subordinate at such an ungodly hour. It's a rule of thumb: respect your employees' personal time. Unless you're in a life and death situation. But that's debatable. You're not supposed to dial Kyungsoo's number for emergency. He's not a breathing ambulance. He's not your property.” The line goes dead. “Hello? Jongin?” Junmyeon shrugs. “He hung up on me.”

“You do realize I'll probably lose my job because of that, don't you?” Kyungsoo says in defeat.

“Firing you because of me is a shattering blow to Jongin's ego.”

“God, you pissed him off.”

Junmyeon laughs. “He hates me, Kyungsoo. It doesn't change a thing.”

“What happened between you and him?” Kyungsoo asks as soon as the server is done placing the dishes and drinks on the table. “I mean, you've never really talked about your relationship.”

“You'd never believe it.”

“Let's hear the unbelievable, then. I'm listening.”

Junmyeon leans over. “Jongin and I used to be friends in business school. We watched movies, listened to music, shared rooms, laughed at inside jokes, and talked about love, life, and everything in between. It was a toxic fallout. We spent years being in the same environment and having the same dreams but moving in different paths.”

“Did you try to patch things up with him?”

“I did, but there was too much bad blood, doubly because Baekhyun and Baekhyun's father were involved in the situation.”

“Baekhyun's father?”

“Mr. Byun was a powerful man. He ran the company like a dictatorship. Eventually, Mr. Byun retired. Baekhyun practiced his father's ways and climbed the business ladder.”

“You could have been there for Jongin, too.”

“I know but I can't do that without hurting Baekhyun. He's like a brother to me.” Junmyeon's eyes concentrate on Kyungsoo. “I hope you understand, Kyungsoo. I know Jongin. He's a good person. Whatever he has right now, he has earned it himself. I'll never discredit him.” He offers Kyungsoo a small grin. “You okay with that?”

Kyungsoo nods. “Of course.”

The sky appears pitch black as Junmyeon sends Kyungsoo home. He parks near the curb. “Thank you for tonight. It was fun,” Junmyeon says. “I'm disappointed that the tickets for the theatrical show have been sold out, though. I wish I could stay another week and reschedule my flight next month, but Baekhyun would chop me in half.”

“Don't worry, the show can wait,” Kyungsoo says.

Junmyeon risks a sidelong glance at him. “You were strangely quiet the entire ride,” he adds finally. “Are you gonna tell me? Because I'm starting to think you didn't like the chicken teriyaki,” he quips, easing the tension.

“The chicken teriyaki was delicious.”

“Not the reply I was expecting, but I'm happy you thought it was delicious.”

“Junmyeon, I like someone,” Kyungsoo says placidly.

Silence.

The change in Junmyeon's expression is palpable. “Wow, great.” He plasters on a smile, and it's the dullest one that Kyungsoo has ever seen. “I just – I'm happy for you. That's good news.”

Kyungsoo's head spins at the mere thought of saying Jongin's name in the conversation. “I wanted to let you know.”

“No problem. I'm glad you told me.” Junmyeon checks his watch. “Well, I'd love to know more about this someone, but it's late, and silly me, I actually have a huge presentation tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, sure.” Kyungsoo hesitates. “You’re going to be fine, right?”

“Kyungsoo, just go. I’ll be fine.” Junmyeon’s voice cracks.

“Drive safe.”

* * *

Tuesdays aren't better because the meeting preparations have been in full swing and hell to manage. Kyungsoo plots through the necessary actions and makes sure the agenda comes to pass with far greater certainty than the previous meeting. He runs from one room to another, skidding down the corridor. He fishes out his phone to answer a call.

“Hi, what's up?” he says.

“Holy shit, Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol starts. “I just had lunch with one of the account managers here, and guess what? He went to the same university as Kim Jongin.”

Kyungsoo scowls in disgust. _Here we go again_. “Chanyeol, are we not over that?”

“No, listen, I promise, it's an interesting story,” Chanyeol presses. “Wait, he's not there with you, is he? Can he hear me?”

“Oh, Jesus, of course, he's sitting right beside me, and we're literally ear to ear because you know, that's how we work together,” Kyungsoo says with a note of sarcasm.

“Barf alert.” Chanyeol clears his throat as if to deliver a speech. “Apparently, your boss wasn't the smartest kid. The firm where he applied for an internship program rejected him because his grades were so abominable. I heard he was only able to finish his MBA because of his connections.”

Kyungsoo's feet halt. “That's not true,” he says petulantly. “The company's stocks were suffering when Jongin's father died, and he worked harder than you could possibly imagine. He earned his MBA.”

“He was a failure.”

“No, he wasn't. He struggled, but he wasn't a failure.”

“For fuck's sake, Kyungsoo, what do you know?” Chanyeol hoots.

“What do _you_ know?” His voice shakes in suppressed anger.

“Dude, are you actually siding with Kim Jongin? I'm telling you that son of a bitch doesn't—”

“Stop calling him that. Just stop, okay? You know nothing about him.” Kyungsoo is now yelling. “I don't care if you think he doesn't deserve what he has. You have no right. Your mind is so wrapped around the idea that everybody hates Jongin. It's sickening.”

There is a long pause. “Have you turned into that ass-kissing employee?” Chanyeol hisses.

Kyungsoo drops the call.

There is a scheduled brunch with Hoon, including a couple of senior managers, and Kyungsoo is left with no choice but to accept the invitation. But to Kyungsoo's surprise, Jongin's office bares no sight of him.

“He's upstairs with some guests,” Minseok says from the doorway.

“Some guests?” Kyungsoo asks him. “I thought Mr. Sung had plans.”

“Didn't Jongin tell you? Mr. Sung canceled last minute because a client arrived earlier today,” Minseok explains, staring at him with confusion. He studies the look on Kyungsoo's face. “What happened? Did you fight?”

“No, it's not that. I mean, I should probably talk to him and sort shit out.”

“Shit? Oh, shucks, big word.”

“I'll see you around, hyung.”

Kyungsoo proceeds to the executive lounge where he finds Jongin with a group of people: Hoon, Jennie, Chairman Lee, and Chaerin. Not the crowd he fancies around. Without a doubt, he carefully retreats from the area, stepping backward then bumping into the server, apologizing to the staff for spilling the white wine on the carpet.

And that catches everybody's attention. Hoon and Jennie are shooting daggers at him. Chairman Lee's expression, as usual, cannot be read. Chaerin seems both pleased and shocked, a bit mortified to witness him in a rather chaotic moment, and Kyungsoo doesn't miss how she casually mumbles _what the fuck_. Jongin looks like he's biting back a string of curses.

“Hi,” Kyungsoo says, straightening his posture. “Um, wrong floor?” _Jesus Christ_. He wants to shrivel into a blob.

“I'm sorry, he's an eyesore,” Jennie tells Chairman Lee. “I'll handle it.”

“You'll handle nothing,” Jongin says quietly, blocking Jennie. “He works for _me_.”

“Hello, Mr. Do,” Chaerin greets him. Her voice is too warm and welcoming that Jennie immediately pulls a disapproving face. “Why don't you take a seat?” Chaerin motions him to occupy the vacant spot. “Don't be a stranger.”

“I really appreciate the gesture, Ms. Lee,” Kyungsoo says. “But—”

“Oh, please, I insist.” Chaerin beams. “Have a drink with us.”

_Fuck it_ , Kyungsoo decides. He sits between Jongin and Jennie. He eyes Chaerin from across the table, and if there's worse than having to breathe next to the man he made out with last night and the girl said man is screwing for business, he'll choose a different option like crawling through a raw sewage pipe with fresh wounds.

After thirty agonizing minutes, Hoon adjourns the meeting. Chaerin drags Kyungsoo into a secluded corner where she can chat with him privately. She explains that she and the chairman are visiting a family friend around the city.

“I'll have to ask you, but are Jennie and Jongin together?” Chaerin demands. “She flirts with him quite shamelessly. What am I, a threat? Like, why would I even bother competing with her? Her CC cream made me break out! I wouldn't forget!”

Kyungsoo sighs. “She's Mr. Kim's business. I've got nothing else to say.”

“No way. You have prettier eyes, Kyungsoo, and you're a very, very beautiful man.” She grins, patting Kyungsoo's cheek. Kyungsoo grimaces. “Jongin rejected me. The fucking nerve of that man.”

“I heard.”

“He told you? Did he freak out?”

“Not really, but he felt bad.”

“Did he also tell you I thought you were cute?”

“Oh my god, Chaerin.” Kyungsoo groans. “Why would you tell him that?”

“Shut up. He agreed with me. That was all I needed to know.”

“He agreed with you?”

“No shit, you adorable piece of squish.” She giggles, nudging Kyungsoo's side. “So, how about we meet after work?”

“You're staying? Aren't you supposed to leave with Chairman Lee?”

“Well, I'm the boss lady.”

* * *

Kyungsoo scans the document, double-checking if the significant pages have Jongin's signature. “Thank you,” he says, anticipating Jongin's response, but the executive stays focused on the laptop screen. “Are we okay?”

“What do you mean?” Jongin asks him.

“You didn't tell me about the changes in your schedule.”

“I assume it's your job to confirm them with me.”

“Of course,” Kyungsoo says flatly. “You did it on purpose. Why would I be surprised?”

Jongin loosens his necktie. “Give me a break, Mr. Do. You talk like you haven't been purposely getting on my nerves for the past days. You haven't been paying attention to your job as well, and now, you're blaming me for having my schedule changed without prior notice. It's infuriating.”

There is a sheer volume of adrenaline rushing through Kyungsoo's body. He balls a fist. “Do you even have any idea how difficult it is to work with you?”

“It's only difficult because you make it difficult, for you, and for me,” Jongin says, staring straight at him. “What exactly is your point?” he demands as he rises from the seat. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Is it my fault that you're so caught up with your personal matters you completely forget your responsibilities at work?”

“Where is this coming from?”

“You wouldn't be here complaining about the meeting if you picked up your phone last night.”

“Are we back to this conversation again?” Kyungsoo actually laughs, and his throat hurts.

Jongin looks unbothered. “We can keep this up for as long as you like.”

“You don't understand.”

“Maybe I don't, but that's the difference between us, Kyungsoo. I know what I want, and you don't.”

“I know what I want, Jongin, and it's not as easy as you think.”

* * *

“Son of a pissing monkey!” Chaerin practically yells after Kyungsoo narrates how the past days have buried him six feet under. “You could have said something, Kyungsoo. What is wrong with you?” She smacks him with the throw pillow. “You're such a tough nut to crack, aren't you?”

There is a voice in Kyungsoo's head, whispering how much he likes Jongin, and with Chaerin, he doesn't necessarily have to pretend. Chaerin's speech tends to brim with brutal honesty, but Kyungsoo feels safe around someone whose judgment isn't influenced by the media.

For Kyungsoo, the idea of liking Jongin is simply a tormenting concept.

“You're a fool,” Chaerin says, popping another bottle of beer. “He wants you. What else are you trying to prove to yourself?”

“I've gone back and forth on the thought of being with him, how I feel about him, and it's not as serious as you think. I mean, really, he's my boss.”

Chaerin's expression sours. “Say that again and I'll break your kneecaps. One moment. One fucking moment. Do me a favor and be a man.”

“I just don't think it's right.”

“Bullshit, and you think hanging out with Junmyeon is right? Oh, please. Don't use that guy to your advantage. He seems like a genuinely sweet person. Leave him alone because the last thing you need is a dickstraction.”

“What? Dickstraction?”

“A dick that distracts.”

“Jesus, Chaerin. Let it go.”

“Fine, but I'm serious. Spare Junmyeon. He should be out of the scene.”

The guilt registers on Kyungsoo's face. “I know. I'm sorry.”

Chaerin scoots nearer. “Gamble,” she says. “You know what grownup adults do? They talk. Have a healthy, sober conversation. Can you do that?” she asks, not receiving a response. “I understand why you're holding back, and believe me, it's totally natural. But you have to tell him how you really feel. Just try to tone it down and save the sex part in the future.”

“Oh, god, that's the least of your concern!” Kyungsoo winces. “I don't wanna have sex with him.”

“Are you sure?” Chaerin simpers as she elbows Kyungsoo's side. “Because I can pretty much guess you get a boner every time he walks down the corridor, in that suit, with that hair.”

“That's not your concern as well.”

“Yeah, I agree, but come on, please, be reasonable. I need you to think about what you're getting yourself into.” Chaerin waits, but Kyungsoo doesn't speak, seemingly unable to put the words together. “There's nothing easy with it. I know how frowned-upon it is to be in a relationship with your colleague, or worse, with your boss. There are certain boundaries that you cannot cross, and as your friend, I can't help but worry, too. Jongin has a reputation to maintain, and based on the articles and posts circulating on the Internet, the press seems to despise him.”

There are hundreds of questions and what-ifs swarming Kyungsoo's brain. “What if he just needed a good fuck?”

Chaerin pursues a handful of nachos. “Then give him a good fuck. Is that what you want?”

“No, if I wanted a good fuck, I'd be sliding into a random guy's inbox.”

“See? You like him a lot. It doesn't have to be complicated.”

“Why do you even support me?”

Chaerin rests her head on Kyungsoo's shoulder. “You're kind, smart, and handsome. What's there not to support?”

For a moment, Kyungsoo falls silent. “I'm scared.”

“Who isn't?”

* * *

A young gentleman is standing at the door of Jongin's office, holding a stack of papers. “Hi,” Kyungsoo greets him. “Are you here to see Mr. Kim?”

“Um, hello, you must be Mr. Do. I've been waiting for you. My name is Taehyung.” He bows politely. “I'm new, and some of my teammates have told me that Mr. Kim is a bit intimidating.”

Kyungsoo cannot help but smile. “How long have you been here?”

“Twenty minutes, probably. I mean, I was fortunate enough to pass the interview, and I'm excited to work, but I didn't expect a first task as big as delivering a few documents to the big boss.”

“Come on, I'll bring you in to meet him.”

“But, Mr. Do, can't you just hand these for me?”

“Trust me.” Kyungsoo knocks twice, then pushes the door open. “Good morning, Mr. Kim,” he says. “Someone is looking for you.”

Taehyung steps inside, his eyes doing a quick sweep of the room. “Good morning, Mr. CEO. Mr. Kim! Sorry. I'm Taehyung from the accounting department. Ms. Park sent me to, um, deliver these for you to review.”

“Sure,” Jongin says tersely. “You'll hear from Mr. Do when I'm done.”

“You're welcome. I mean, thank you, Mr. Kim, and Mr. Do.” Taehyung bows for good measure, giving Kyungsoo a secret high five before leaving as timidly as possible.

Kyungsoo watches the movement of Jongin's fingers on the keyboard. He keeps a measured stance, collecting the tiny bits of courage he needs to speak to him. “Can I talk to you?”

Jongin's eyes remain glued to the laptop screen. It's his typical way of showing people he cannot be disturbed, but Kyungsoo refuses to deviate from the plan. “About what?” Jongin asks. “I'm busy.”

“I know.”

“Save it for later if it's not work-related.”

“I'm sorry for what I said yesterday, for how I acted,” Kyungsoo says in a rush. “It was tactless, irreversible, and I really, really wish I could go back in time and do it all over again.” He pauses as Jongin looks up at him with a questioning gaze. “No, I mean, work!” He exhales, embarrassed.

Jongin leans back, scrutinizing him. “That's it?”

“No, I'm not done. I'd like to make it up to you.”

“Make it up to me,” Jongin repeats. “So, I get to decide?”

“Yes, of course, anything.” Silence. Kyungsoo's palms are beginning to grow cold.

“Well, two things,” Jongin says finally. “First, don't be an asshole when you're angry.”

“And the second?”

“Go on a date with me.”


	11. Above Reproach

“You've been very quiet for weeks,” Ryeowook says. He puts the bowl of nachos on the coffee table. “I know your job demands attention like a spoiled toddler, but aren't you there to keep Chanyeol happy with the lady director? Why don't you tell him you're done sacrificing your time, sweat, and energy for him?”

“I'm okay with it.”

“But you hate your boss. Even Chanyeol hates him. He'll understand your situation.”

Kyungsoo shifts uncomfortably on the couch. “Let's just go watch a movie, please?” He huddles closer to Ryeowook's side. “I've missed you, hyung. I'm sorry for being away.”

“Oh, shut up, the apology is completely unnecessary.” Ryeowook nudges him. “You're an adult and you work. It's normal to be busy. I support you getting your shit together.”

“I haven't been cheering you on your shows. I really love your new song.”

“Well, it's for a cause. I think it's about time I use my voice to educate people on what it's like to be queer.”

“Aren't you afraid?”

“Maybe a little. It's proper fear.” Ryeowook grins, then clicks a button on the remote control, prompting the film to roll on the screen. “Before I forget, you know Junmyeon's leaving tonight, right?”

Kyungsoo stiffens. He did text Junmyeon earlier to have a safe flight, but as he had guessed, no answers came. Junmyeon has been actively ignoring him since that night in the car, and frankly, Kyungsoo doesn't expect him to bother entertaining his messages after giving him the wrong idea. “Yeah, I know,” he says in response to Ryeowook's question.

Ryeowook glances at him. “You guys are so good together.”

“Hyung,” Kyungsoo warns.

“Can't help it. Just an observation.”

“It's not gonna happen.”

“And why is that?”

“I don't like him that way.”

Ryeowook snorts, grabbing a nacho. “You'll change your mind sooner or later.”

Kyungsoo won't. “I'm afraid I've never been more certain than now.”

* * *

The last time he bothered putting an extra layer of effort for a date, Kyungsoo got dumped and spent the evening ordering the restaurant's bestsellers, which included an overpriced dessert. He would never forget Johnny from the debate club. Johnny had a wicked sense of humor and a great set of teeth. There were ups and downs, but being with him felt like a fire hoop to jump through, and relationships shouldn't be that damn hard.

Chaerin's text message reads: _Calm your nerves, Kyungsoo. It's a date, not a job interview_. And then another buzz follows, which says: _Don't dress like James Bond and have fun!_

In the end, Kyungsoo picks a shirt that doesn't need ironing. He pairs it with a decently neat blazer. Classy enough for today's presentation and date.

The regular routine in graduate school happens, except that Soojung comments on how he looks fresh. The Soojung. Daughter of Senator Jung. Brand Ambassador of Etude House. There is something beautiful about the way she moves and speaks. She exudes a charm that captures the attention of everybody in the room, including Kyungsoo's.

On the flip side, Chanyeol ignores him twice. Kyungsoo decides to give him some space. He can only hope it doesn't turn into a we-stopped-talking friendship breakup.

_Eight minutes_. In a bold but ineffectual attempt to beat the clock, he races to the exit, hauling through the sea of people at the local fair. The cacophony of voices echoes behind him. Something about free drinks. He doesn’t really care. It’s a little crazy how much Jongin has been running on his mind for the past hours.

He reaches a safe spot, or maybe not, because there come three young men sprinting toward him. The next thing Kyungsoo knows, he's wet, his shirt stained with a shade of brown, and the smell lingers.

“Sorry!” one of the students shouts, wincing at the sight before chasing back the other two.

Kyungsoo freezes, covered in a strange mixture of cream and caramel, dreading to move a muscle. His first thought is that he should cancel the date with Jongin because he's officially a walking human glucose and he feels disgusting.

When Kyungsoo's phone rings, he stares at the screen, debating whether or not to answer Jongin's call. “Hi,” he says over the line after a long while.

“Where are you?” Jongin asks him. “I'm here.”

“I can't go.”

“What do you mean you can't go?”

“Some asshole spilled his drink on me. I look like shit.” Kyungsoo sniffs himself, then cringes away from the sweetness. “I smell like shit.”

“You've got to be kidding me.”

“Jongin, I'm serious. My shirt is soaked.”

“Okay, calm down. Can you just come see me? We'll figure it out.”

Kyungsoo scowls. “I look like shit.”

“Like you haven't told me. Hurry up.”

There should be a word for absolute embarrassment that you wish to dig a hole and bury yourself alive. Kyungsoo can pretty much sum the situation up with it.

He spots Jongin’s car parked across the street, and with steady, unblinking eyes, Kyungsoo catches sight of him through the windshield. Jongin is a vision in a royal red coat, gaze hidden under a pair of sunglasses, fingers tapping impatiently against the steering wheel.

“Don't be mean,” Kyungsoo says as he climbs into the passenger's seat.

“I don't intend to.” Jongin gives him a soft, genuine smile, and Kyungsoo's heart kind of squeezes to a halt. “You look perfectly fine to me, Kyungsoo. You don't have to be embarrassed.”

_Jesus Christ_. How can he not be embarrassed? Jongin looks thoroughly kempt and fashionably stunning. On the contrary, Kyungsoo wears shame like a tailor-made piece of garment. “Well, okay, I still need to get changed.” Jongin rests against the driver's seat with a face of utter nonchalance, but Kyungsoo thinks Jongin's patience is beginning to run thin. “I apologize for the trouble. How can I make the situation better? Would you like to reschedule today's arrangement?”

“You're speaking to me in that language,” Jongin says with a frown.

“What language?”

“Office language.”

Kyungsoo sighs. “I'm sorry, let’s try that again,” he says flaccidly. “What's the plan?”

“Relax. Accidents happen.” There is a deliberate silence. “Look, I've got a flannel that you can wear.” Jongin turns to the backseat, checking the items behind. “I'm not sure if you're comfortable with the idea of borrowing my stuff, but it's washed, dirt-free, and I'll not charge you a cent.”

“It's fine. I'll take it.” Kyungsoo doesn't complain as he watches Jongin. “What else do you have there? An inflatable pool?”

“Yeah, smart guess. You wanna try that one?”

“Only if it comes with a water slide.”

Jongin actually chuckles. “I'll probably have to work on that.” He hands Kyungsoo the flannel. “It should fit you.”

Jongin's flannel, which smells of fabric softener and chronic stubbornness, is a shade of green. Forest green, to be precise. Kyungsoo loves how cozy the cloth feels. “You're like my size,” he says. Jongin looks at him with amusement. “I mean, except the height, and other human appendages.” He does his best to sound convincing, but Jongin doesn’t seem to buy it. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“It's a surprise.” Jongin leaves the suspense hanging. “I'll grab some gas at the nearest station. You can change there.”

There is another lengthy silence as the car speeds along the boulevard. Kyungsoo stares straight ahead, filtering the date-appropriate topics he's allowed to discuss with Jongin. Of course, he cannot talk about workplace shenanigans for an obvious reason. But really, what is he supposed to tell him _? I've never seen you drive before, and weirdly, I find it hot. You have a smooth chin. Waffles are basically pancakes on steroids. You know what? I've made every irresponsible decision at work, and that includes liking you._

In an ideal world, Kyungsoo doesn't even have to dread the repercussions, but it's Jongin, and being with Jongin can be complicated.

“What's troubling you?” Jongin asks him.

Kyungsoo's expression spells mild panic. “Nothing.”

Jongin glances over. “You're fiddling with your seat belt,” he says, causing Kyungsoo to stop. “I'm all ears.”

“Just happy.”

“Happy?”

“Yeah, obviously because you lent me your flannel.”

Jongin looks crestfallen. “I was expecting a different response, but you're welcome.”

Kyungsoo stifles a laugh.

* * *

“Hello, Mr. Kim, I've been looking forward to your visit,” the captain greets. He walks with the gait of a soldier and has a shiny, leaf-shaped brooch pinned to his lapel. “Such a delight to see you and your friend. Please follow me.” He ushers Jongin and Kyungsoo inside.

The members of the crew, all clad in immaculate uniform, welcome them to the cockpit. Jongin does the honors of introducing Kyungsoo to everybody, and like a special guest on a reality show, he has been received warmly. After a brief round of conversation, Mina, a short-haired female, escorts them to the bar.

“Looking good, boss,” Mina says. “Haven't seen you in ages. It's ridiculous how much you've grown even more handsome.”

Kyungsoo mentally agrees with Mina. He tries hard to maintain a poker face but fails miserably when Jongin smiles, flattered by Mina's compliment. Oh, that boyishness, a stark contrast of Jongin's perpetual frown in the meeting room. It's going to be the death of Kyungsoo.

“Enjoy the rest of the day.” Mina serves the cocktails before she proceeds to the galley, giving them privacy.

Kyungsoo slides onto the seat, gazing around, appreciating the stunning woodwork and meticulous furnishings. It's a spectacularly well-appointed yacht, polished from top to bottom, with a flat-screen television, spacious staircases, and a saloon area that displays a tremendous view through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Are you comfortable?” Jongin asks him.

Indeed. Kyungsoo responds with a nod. “You're full of surprises, Jongin,” he says. “I initially thought you'd bring me to a restaurant of your choice, eat an outrageously expensive meal, and maybe, interrogate my life decisions.”

“Do you want me to interrogate your life decisions?”

“No, not really. You might touch a nerve.”

Jongin shrugs. “For the record, I did consider booking a restaurant, but you know me, I'm not a crowd person. I hate being in a public space.” He leans against the counter, arm spread across the surface. “I'll let you pick a spot next time.”

“You sure about that?”

“I'm fairly optimistic.”

“Well, you are.”

“Come on, I'll show you around.”

There are five cabins in total, including the ones for the crew and the captain. Jongin leads the way to the upper deck where the details accentuate the monochromatic backdrop of the seaside. It boasts an outdoor dining area, too, exquisitely designed, with a circular hot tub installed at the center.

By the end of the tour, Jongin guides Kyungsoo toward the taffrail. They remain quiet for a while, listening to the occasional gush of water against the boat.

“It's always comforting to be in a place where father used to be,” Jongin says. “I remember how much he enjoyed unwinding here on weekends. The crew loved him a lot. He treated them like they were part of the family. He was a very expressive man. At work, he would cry out of frustration, and it was difficult to comfort him, especially because he had uncontrollably loud sniffles.” He grins at the memory. “After I got elected as CEO, I felt more lonely than accomplished. Probably because he wasn't around to celebrate with me and the company.” He notices the seriousness on Kyungsoo's face. “Please, don't hold back. You can tell me to shut up.”

“I don’t want you to shut up,” Kyungsoo says. He’s close enough to him that he can see the tiny mole under Jongin’s eye. “Why do I feel like you don’t give yourself the credit you deserve?”

“I’m proud of where I am today.”

“Yeah?”

“Okay, I’ll tell you what I’ve learned for the past years, so listen carefully. Perfection isn’t key to success. It’s better to strive for consistency because business is messy in general. You don’t start a company out of a perfect idea, a perfect vision, and a perfect team.” Jongin's expression fixes, sharp and intense. It's that passion with purpose. Kyungsoo has witnessed it countless times, but to be right in front of Jongin, to be alone with him, it almost feels insurmountable. “Most importantly, you can’t do it all by yourself. What I have right now, I owe it to the people around me.”

“Don't get me wrong. You're absolutely, astoundingly gorgeous, Jongin, and that's the least interesting thing about you.”

Jongin smiles. “Is that your unique way of saying you like me?”

“What? No.” Kyungsoo scowls, but Jongin's warm, playful confidence makes him want to combust into wisps of dust.

“I'm that special, huh.”

“How am I even supposed to respond to that without putting my professional life at stake?”

Jongin looks at him. “I like you and the things you say, Kyungsoo.”

There are jumbled lines of poetry written in the back of Kyungsoo's head, trying to understand how much he wishes to embrace the idea of being with Jongin, the feeling of having him so near that no profound space is left to separate them.

Jongin hovers over Kyungsoo, leaning forward, an arm loosely stretched to the rail. “Are you going to stare at me or kiss me?”

For the very first time, Kyungsoo doesn't hesitate. He stays rooted to the spot, framed by the sunlight, unflinching. He cups Jongin's face, fingertips tracing that prominent line of jaw, thumb pressed against Jongin's chin.

It doesn't take Jongin a few scattered seconds to wrap an arm behind Kyungsoo. He pulls him close, holds him like he's both delicate and tough, and draws him in for a slow, languid kiss.

Kyungsoo's hand slides down to the nape of Jongin's neck, tracing circles on the bare skin. He lets Jongin's hands fall to his waist, stroking him lightly at first, gentle but bold, gripping and growing with intent. He pauses for a moment, and his eyes flutter open, and Jongin frowns a little. “Ask me again,” Kyungsoo says.

“Do I have to?”

“Not too obvious, is it?”

“So, make yourself clear.”

There is a pleasant warmth coursing through Kyungsoo's body as Jongin kisses him again, longer, deeper, and more passionately.

Before they even break away from each other, Jongin squints at the sky. “The sun is setting,” he says, looking pleased. “How romantic.”

Kyungsoo laughs. “Really, Jongin? Is that part of your plan?”

“Hardly.”

* * *

“How was your day, by the way?” Jongin asks. He pursues another bite of pizza from the table.

“Except for the fact that I got spilled on and smelled like crème brûlée, I had a productive afternoon, thank you,” Kyungsoo says with a stiff smile. “Everything is perfect.” Jongin raises an eyebrow at him. “Not perfect, but manageable, I guess?”

“It's graduate school,” Jongin reminds him.

“So?”

“You're a terrible liar, Kyungsoo. Be honest with me.”

Kyungsoo heaves a sigh. “Okay, I swear I'm trying.” He's approaching high-grade panic. It's almost self-destructive how often he downloads academic journals that he'll probably not read any time soon. Seriously, though. He should be at home, stuck with a draft, running on doses of strong caffeine while questioning the very purpose of life. “I haven't written a word for my paper.”

Jongin nods, chewing. “Totally normal and understandable.”

“How is that normal? I'm far behind.”

“What do you mean you're far behind? Who are you competing with?”

For a couple of seconds, Kyungsoo's mouth hangs open, then closes with an inaudible snap. He tries to decipher Jongin's point and what he's missing. “No one.”

“Precisely. You're there to learn.” Jongin's voice remains calm yet firm, promising no judgment. “It's okay to have days where you're too exhausted or not motivated enough to do what needs to be done.”

“You think?”

“I think you should free yourself from the thought that you're running out of time. You're still young. You'll get there, and of course, I'll be here if there's anything I can do to help.”

Kyungsoo's relief is palpable. He half-smiles. “How did you survive?”

“Wow, that's a tough question,” Jongin says, pouring Kyungsoo another glass of wine. He leans back on the chair, with broody eyes, remembering particular details that date back years ago. “I actually didn't expect the sheer amount of readings involved and I was still recovering from father's death that time. There were nights I crammed, days that had gone to waste. Yeah, I fucked up a few presentations because I got too nervous.”

“You got nervous?” Kyungsoo repeats, shell-shocked.

“What?” Jongin chuckles. “Does that surprise you? I still get nervous.”

“You're kidding me.”

“I'm not.”

“But it doesn't show!”

“Now you know.”

“Your secret's safe with me.”

“So, how is it going with you and Chanyeol? The business-savvy like me. What does he do?”

Kyungsoo's heart sinks. “He's in corporate marketing. Smart guy. Plays the guitar well. We're in a rough patch, but we'll be fine, eventually.”

“What happened?”

“We had a disagreement,” Kyungsoo says in a clipped tone. “Let's not talk about him, okay?” He casts Jongin a supplicating look in hopes of having the subject dismissed. Jongin doesn't prod and turns to take a sip of wine. “I've been wanting to ask you something,” Kyungsoo begins. “Um, you and Jennie?”

“I'm bisexual,” Jongin says.

“Okay, that's great. I mean, thank you for telling me.”

“Does that surprise you, too? I kind of assumed you figured that one out.”

“Well, you did send me a lot of pretty clear signals, but I tried not to read too much into them. I just – it seemed inappropriate to think about you in the office.” Something flashes beneath the surface of Jongin's usual expression. Kyungsoo blanches. “Oh, god, why am I being such an idiot in front of you again? I'm sorry. Are you offended?”

“No, no, I'm not,” Jongin says consolingly. “Come here.” He gestures, and Kyungsoo obliges after a beat, scooting closer to Jongin. “I totally understand. You don't have to talk about the things that make you uncomfortable.”

“It's not like it's uncomfortable.”

“Then, what is it?”

“I'm aware of your reputation, Jongin. I don't want to fuck things up.”

“You're not going to fuck things up.”

Kyungsoo's gaze lingers at him. “Are you sure about this?”

“Certain. Sure. Whatever you call it.”

“Okay.” Kyungsoo nods.

“Okay.” Jongin flicks another smile at him. “How many slices have you had?”

“Two?”

“I've had four?”

“Mina bakes really delicious pizza.”

“Yeah, no regrets.”

* * *

“Oh, what a lovely morning,” Minseok says as he stands next to Kyungsoo outside the conference room.

“How are you holding up?” Kyungsoo asks him.

“I'm on the edge of my seat. They're feisty.” Minseok grins. “I'm relieved that Mr. Kim is taking the current issues with a positive attitude. It's rare to hear him joking with the international team.” He watches Kyungsoo nod in agreement. “How are you holding up?”

“Pretty well. Got a call from Busan. They were able to close the sale with FTC.”

“Sungjae's account?”

“Yeah, he has exceeded his annual target.”

“Damn, that kid deserves a raise. He's a charmer.” Minseok checks the corridor for good measure. “I heard he pissed Chairman Lee off and almost lost him? That true?” he asks in an undertone.

Kyungsoo stuffs his phone in the pocket of his jacket as the door swings open. “It was a huge mistake, but he was brave enough to own it.”

“What a man.” Minseok nods a greeting at Jongin. He doesn't miss the brief smile that tugs on the corner of Jongin's lips as the executive spots Kyungsoo beside him. “You're in a strangely good mood,” he says. “I like it.”

“The video conference went smooth, not as disastrous as I expected,” Jongin says. “Mr. Do prepared me enough.” He reverses to Kyungsoo. “I would have forgotten Mr. Singh's concerns if you didn't leave a few notes.”

“You did fantastic, Mr. Kim. As always.”

Minseok glances between them, investigating the sudden shift of tension in the air. “Are you guys hungry? It's almost lunch. Why don't you take a break for a while and grab yourselves some food?”

“Yeah, I ordered lunch for you,” Kyungsoo tells Jongin. “It should be in your office at any moment.”

“What about you?” Jongin asks.

“Oh, I got one for myself, too.”

“Great. Are you staying in?”

“Yeah, working lunch. I'll be fine, though.”

Minseok clears his throat like it has been itching for a decade. “Okay, kids. Eat well. Stay healthy. I'm gonna go take my old, not-completely-oblivious ass back to my office. See you both around.” He waves them goodbye, then heads for the elevator hall.

“Hyung's adorable,” Kyungsoo says. “Seriously, you handled Mr. Singh well. Great job.”

“You know, I've never had an executive secretary that applauds me for doing a great job. I'm starting to get used to the compliments, Mr. Do. You might want to tone them down or I'll think you’re flirting with me.”

Kyungsoo chuckles. “You have a really beautiful smile.”

“Okay, stop doing that,” Jongin chides playfully. “I'll meet you after work.”

“Sure, _boss_.”


	12. Getting There

Every time Jongin walks into the room, Kyungsoo cannot help but notice the striking presence he brings on top of the table, the body language that commands attention without spoken words. The air of danger surrounding them makes working much more challenging and exciting, but within office walls, the rule of thumb stands: keep things professional.

Kyungsoo doesn't forget the mandatory honorific and pronounces it in front of Jongin with a distinctively deliberate, albeit smooth cadence. He likes the equally terrifying and exhilarating thrill of dating in secrecy, likes how often he catches a glimpse of Jongin paying attention to him.

The best part of being with Jongin is getting to enjoy the early hours of the morning where the clock usually ticks slower and management becomes even busier. Kyungsoo's migraine-inducing days are often peppered by Jongin's text messages on afternoon breaks, one of which reads: _Your ability to handle the little disasters in this place is exceptional. Meet me at 5:15?_ And after hours of keeping an artificial distance from each other, Kyungsoo ends up sneaking into Jongin's car, making out with him before driving to a local restaurant.

In hindsight, revealing the relationship can be catastrophic. The truth is, if the rumor mill kicks into high gear, people may be inclined to gossip about them and are likely to assume that Kyungsoo is going to be first in line for promotions and raises. Broadcasting the news to the entire company isn't an option. For now.

“Mr. Sung, it's evident that you’ve put a ton of thought into the project, and I understand that you're keen on having Ms. Chung's team from the start,” Kyungsoo has said during a meeting. “But do you think involving them in a later time could streamline the process?”

Hoon's face muscles have tightened. “What are you suggesting, Mr. Do?”

It's a frightening experience, doubly because pairs and pairs of judging eyes are there to scrutinize him, but Kyungsoo's steely resolve persists. “I dealt with a similar situation last month. I'd be happy to show you how we were able to work that one out.” He remembers Jongin nodding at him, proud and impressed. By the end of the discussion, Kyungsoo has earned praises from everybody, except Hoon.

* * *

“Are you ready for the photoshoot?” Kyungsoo asks Jongin as he hands him a cup of Starbucks.

Jongin mumbles a quick _thank you_ , smashing through the keyboard, brow furrowed in concentration. “Yes, just a second.” He takes a slow sip of coffee. “What's another word for _point out_?”

“Um, identify? Indicate?”

“Indicate.”

“Okay, Mr. Kim.” Kyungsoo crosses the room in a few strides. “How about we try not to overthink your email to Mr. Wu?” He stands behind Jongin and pats him on the shoulder with a slight squeeze.

Jongin hits send, then rises to the floor, facing Kyungsoo. “Pointers?”

“You have a very tight schedule to follow today. I'm afraid you should be finished in less than an hour. Forty minutes max.”

“I can do that. It's just a photoshoot.” Jongin heads for the elevator hall with Kyungsoo.

Of course, it's just a photoshoot – a photoshoot requested by Park Chaeyoung, a writer, popular under the pen name Rosé. Jennie's makeup team awaits Jongin's arrival to transform him into a man candy of sorts, and frankly, Kyungsoo is too busy to sweat the thought of Jongin and Jennie breathing in the same vicinity.

“Ms. Rosé is currently writing an article on corporate fashion,” Kyungsoo says, holding a piece of paper. “She has a Journalism degree, a vlog with nearly a million followers, and a radio hosting career on the side.” Kyungsoo's eyebrows lift in surprise. “She also advocates against animal abuse and has successfully raised money to fund an animal shelter.” He pauses because what he's about to say sounds totally irrelevant. “You know she's a close friend of Ms. Jennie, right?”

Jongin looks over at him as the elevator door closes. “Yes, Kyungsoo, I know, and you have nothing to worry about,” he tells him. “The magazine's editor used to work here in PR. That's the only reason why I'm doing it.”

“Why the defense?”

“I don't want this to be a misunderstanding.”

“You're my _boss_.”

“And I'm your _boyfriend_.”

Kyungsoo turns to him. “Just do your poses and be patient with the staff.”

“I can't promise to be patient.”

“Oh, god, try hard, please.”

The makeshift studio comprises a remodeled office with a lounge area, which includes a pile of scrupulously arranged business newspapers, a leather notebook, and a pack of Raison cigarettes. Why do people assume executives smoke? And what does that prop contribute to the theme? Really. Kyungsoo approaches the attendant to advise.

Jongin sits beside Jennie, surrounded by stylists dressed like they're ready for pride month. The girl in orange fixes his hair with a fine-toothed comb. The girl in yellow dabs a makeup blender on his cheek. The girl in blue tugs his necktie straight.

Meanwhile, Rosé chats with the photographer, reminding him of the type of shots she's aiming for.

“Mr. Kim, I can't thank you enough for giving me a chance to feature you,” Rosé says. Her eyes actually twinkle.

“You're welcome.” By the look on Rosé's face, it's noticeable how much she doesn't appreciate the curt response. Jongin prepares for the final touches, standing in the mirror.

Jennie gives him a once-over. “That belt is ridiculous,” she says, glaring at the girl in red, who has opted to pair Jongin's black oxfords with a gold buckle. “Do your job and get me something better.”

Girl in blue hurries to bring Jennie a skinnier belt that matches Jongin's shoes. Jongin flinches as Jennie replaces it for him, unbuckling then buckling in almost perfect precision, enough to convince a skilled observer that she has performed the act several times before.

Kyungsoo is stationed a few feet away from the subtly disquieting scene. He doesn't miss the way Jongin steals a glance at him for rescue, but what the hell is he supposed to do? Challenge Jennie in a wrestling match? Start a revolution? Call Chaerin and rage about Jennie's obvious advances on Jongin? _Jesus Christ_. He doesn't even have a choice but to witness Jennie's five-star shit show.

“Mr. Do, can you fetch me some water?”

He hears Jennie. Kyungsoo's ears ring, but without a protest, he says, “Sure, Ms. Jennie.” He grabs a bottle of water from the pantry, mentally cussing in all the languages he knows, then he returns, his face as stoic as a Funko pop figure. “Here's your water.”

Jennie frowns. “I don't drink cold water.”

_What are you, a singer?_ Kyungsoo thinks.

“Did you roll your eyes at me?” Jennie gasps, visibly offended. “What is your problem, Mr. Do?” Her voice increases in volume as if to catch everybody's attention. “You have no right to treat me horribly. I'm a guest. I'm _Jongin's_ guest.”

Kyungsoo doesn't waver from the harangue. He maintains a blank expression. He's not going to grant Jennie the cheap, self-righteous satisfaction for being confronted in front of an audience, especially Jongin.

“Who do you think you are?” she grumbles.

“Jennie,” Jongin says, like a warning. “Back to work, please.”

“Are you siding with him? Your secretary thinks he's licensed to disrespect me just because he works for you. I will not take an apology. I want him suspended.”

“That’s enough.” Jongin looks distractingly intense, not pleased at all. “I have a meeting in thirty. Let's be quick and focus on what needs to be done here.” His tone goes businesslike. “Don't waste my time.”

“Um, Mr. Kim is right,” Rosé chips in. “Why don't we begin?”

For a moment, Jongin turns to Kyungsoo. “I'll see you in a while,” he says quietly. “Taemin is expecting you to do the necessary preparations upstairs.”

“Yes, Mr. Kim.” Kyungsoo bids farewell with a bow.

He bites back another curse.

With berating thoughts, Kyungsoo proceeds to the conference room, setting a folder for each seat while channeling his anger-induced energy to the task. As soon as he's done, he releases an exasperated sigh.

From the doorway, Taemin appears, eating the usual bag of chips. “Where's Jongin?” he asks.

“He's with Ms. Jennie. I mean, he's still in the photoshoot.”

“I thought Jongin told her to stop coming here.”

“What do you mean?” Kyungsoo probes, but Taemin chooses to stay silent. “Clearly, I'm nosy for asking that.” He gives a strained chuckle. “It's okay. Not my business.”

Taemin groans. “Okay, don't be mad. Apparently, Jennie wanted Jongin to call them official. In a relationship. A serious one. Jongin refused.”

“Oh.”

“For fuck's sake, Kyungsoo. I know you and Jongin are a thing. You like him. He likes you. It's not rocket science.”

“Is this some kind of trap?”

“No, god, he talks a lot about you. It's almost annoying.”

Kyungsoo flushes a little.

“Don't let Jennie affect you, okay? And try to be extra careful around the office. This isn't a safe place. I don't want you guys to get in trouble. You understand what I'm saying?”

“Thank you, Taemin. I'll keep that in mind.”

Taemin pats Kyungsoo’s back. “I've got you and Jongin.”

* * *

It's difficult to focus, considering the occasional humiliation he tolerates as Jongin's executive secretary, but Kyungsoo tries hard not to wallow in a self-flagellating behavior. Instead, he spends the night cleaning the kitchen, vacuuming the carpet, and working on the paper for Jungsuk's class.

Perhaps he should have said something. An explanation. A defense. What angers him is that Jennie's accusations are frivolous and out of pure, baseless hatred.

He'll get over it. Not now, but in time.

Kyungsoo removes his eyeglasses, pinching the bridge of his nose, then the doorbell chimes. Is he too pissed to forget about ordering takeout for dinner? Kyungsoo's mind is in the gutter.

Without further ado, he opens the door only to realize Jongin is standing at the staircase, dressed in a rolled-up cashmere sweater, hair freshly dried from the shower. He's clutching a paper bag.

“Hi,” Kyungsoo greets with a blink. “What are you doing here?”

Jongin shrugs. “I passed by your favorite diner, so I bought chicken tenders. Can I come in?”

There are no other words to describe Kyungsoo's home except clean. It's comfortably spacious, with minimal furniture, sterile countertops, and interior lighting that's not too bright, not too dark to accentuate the tiny details of the area. People have told Kyungsoo it must be lonely to live alone. “What if there's a huge spider that needs to be killed?” Jongdae has asked him before, to which Kyungsoo has answered, “Then I become a cold-blooded huge spider murderer.”

“Fancy place.” Jongin surveys the room as he puts the paper bag on the coffee table.

“Yeah, have a seat.” Kyungsoo watches Jongin occupy the couch, leaving enough space for him. “Can I get you a drink or something?”

“No, it's okay, thank you. I’m tired and I just want to relax.”

“In my house?”

“Why not?”

“Cut to the chase, Jongin. It's nine in the evening.”

Jongin looks affronted. “I can read the clock.”

“Of course, you can, you're Kim Jongin, Business Executive of the Year, CEO of J&T,” Kyungsoo says with a note of derision. “God, why are even you here? I've had a rough day and I'll probably explode at any given moment.” He heaves a sigh. Jongin is staring at him, wide-eyed, mildly baffled. Kyungsoo sits next to him. The air thickens.

Silence.

“I would've asked, but I could tell, from the tone of your voice, that you were upset earlier,” Jongin says gently.

Kyungsoo leans forward, elbows on the knees. “I did prepare myself for the worst possible scenario and I was stupid to expect it would hurt less.”

“I shouldn't have allowed something like that to happen. I'm sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault.”

“You know, I don't mind telling her the truth if that makes everything better.”

Kyungsoo faces him. “That doesn't make everything better,” he says. “You don't need to do that for me. I mean, really, I've agreed not to take things too personal at work.”

“You're doing the squinty eyes. I'm not sure if you're mad at me.”

“I'm fucking blind, Jongin.”

“So, you're not mad?”

“Don't worry too much about it. I'm sure you've had a long day, too, and clearly, weirdly, you're here to relax.”

“Fine, but the next time she tries to put you in trouble, I will be brutal,” Jongin says in a severe tone. He puts an arm around Kyungsoo, taking him against his warm, cozy side, and Kyungsoo allows himself to be tucked. “You haven't answered my question. You're not mad at me, are you? Because if you are, I can take a bit of rough handling.”

Kyungsoo laughs because there is an edge of excitement in Jongin's voice. He sways forward, then presses a tentative kiss on Jongin's lips. “How 'bout you walk me through your afternoon meeting? I can multitask,” he suggests as he props himself on top of Jongin, straddling him, palms firm against the cushions.

“You sure you want to talk about that?” Jongin asks.

“No, not really.”

“Anything else you'd like to say to me?”

Kyungsoo doesn't miss how Jongin's face contorts as he moves against him. “You did your poses well.”

Sure enough, Jongin knows it's awfully intentional. His hands drop to Kyungsoo's hips, pulling him harder for more. He swallows. “You liked the photos?”

“Loved them,” Kyungsoo says, and with no space for concealment, he pursues another kiss, humming into it, and Jongin permits him, tongue thrusting slowly, deliciously, mouth fierce on Kyungsoo's.

The sight is beautiful and obscene, and Kyungsoo, poise long gone, doesn't even try to stifle a moan. _Jesus_. The past few weeks have been hell, almost frustrating for him, with all the quiet moments in the office, all the hungry gazes along the corridors. He's done for good.

Jongin burrows his face into Kyungsoo's throat, feeling him shiver at the sensation, which makes him smile against Kyungsoo's neck in satisfaction. There is a hint of teeth on skin, sucking lightly, enough to leave marks that will fade in hours.

Kyungsoo smells of fresh linen, and it's homely, soothing. His eyes flutter closed at the stroke of Jongin's tongue tracing soft circles. He tilts his head to give him better access, clutching Jongin's sweater like a lifeline, luxuriating in the proof that Jongin wants him. His mouth latches back to Jongin's, and Kyungsoo lets out a muffled noise, pleasure-ridden as Jongin's cock rubs between the curve of his ass.

“What?” Jongin pauses to look at him. “Does that feel good?”

“Yeah, really good,” Kyungsoo manages. His cock feels full in his jeans and is right up against Jongin's stomach. He grinds against him, nice and slow at first, just the way he likes it, just the way he wants to be fucked.

“Can I–?” Jongin asks, to which Kyungsoo nods. “You're so fucking hot.” He unzips Kyungsoo's jeans, then smears around the wetness at the tip of Kyungsoo's cock, spreading the precum before jerking him off, fast and precise. He slips a free hand under Kyungsoo's shirt, massaging his chest before flicking a finger over his nipple.

Kyungsoo's eyes track the movement of Jongin's hand, hips rutting up. His forehead begins to sweat and his legs quiver. He pants, wide-mouthed.

“I want to see you come,” Jongin says.

And he does, convulsing as he shoots streaks on the couch and on Jongin's arm. “Oh, god, I'm sorry!” he gasps. In a state of panic, he stumbles into doing the button of his jeans, nearly tripping over the floor.

“Kyungsoo, it's okay. It's just–” Jongin makes a vague gesture in the air for effect. “–cum.”

Kyungsoo turns a deaf ear and rifles through the cabinet for a box of tissue. “I'm very embarrassed,” he says, wanting to die right there. “Let me clean you up.” He crawls on the couch and dabs the cloth on Jongin's arm, like he's wiping the kitchen counter, and Jongin cannot help but laugh.

“You were amazing.”

“Jesus, Jongin. I literally shot my load on you.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t get anywhere else next time,” Jongin promises. Kyungsoo groans. “I'm suddenly hungry. Are you hungry?”

“Famished.”

“Great, because I got you chicken tenders.”

* * *

The afternoon he has been dreading begins, not because of another butt-numbing, headache-causing seminar but because the key speaker happens to be Baekhyun. Kyungsoo's eyes scan the auditorium as he enters the venue, searching for Chanyeol, hoping to remedy the issue between them.

“This seat is not taken.”

It's Soojung, offering him the vacant spot beside her.

“Um, thanks.” Kyungsoo occupies the chair. He steals a glance at Soojung.

“It’s strange that you and I have been in multiple classes together but never had the chance to talk,” Soojung says. “I enjoyed your presentation a few weeks ago, by the way. You work at J&T, right?”

“Yeah, it's a business intelligence company.”

“Don't be silly. I'm familiar with it. Are you a manager or something?”

“No, I'm Jongin's executive secretary.”

“Jongin?” She flips a page in her notebook. “Like Kim Jongin?”

“Yes, I mean, Mr. Kim. It's Kim Jongin. He's the – my boss.”

“For real?” Soojung gawks. “Kyungsoo, you’re a lucky, lucky man. Kim Jongin is phenomenal. I’ve heard so much about his contributions.”

“I know!” Kyungsoo grins almost a bit too bright. “He’s electrifying. It’s hard not to admire him. He works with a positive purpose. I’m sorry. I sound like a complete idiot. I’m just proud of him.” _Fuck._ He clears his throat, wearing a nonchalant expression.

“Well, I understand the fascination.” Soojung nods. “He's very popular in the industry.”

“You don't hate him?”

“Of course not.”

“That's a first.”

“I don't believe everything I see on the Internet. It’s a smart choice.”

The sessions end earlier than expected. There are several groups taking photographs on stage while chatting briefly with each other. Kyungsoo decides to leave the auditorium until he recognizes a voice behind him.

“Kyungsoo! Wait!” Baekhyun hollers.

Kyungsoo turns around. “Mr. Byun.” He bows.

“Would you like to grab some coffee with me?” Baekhyun offers with an expectant gaze. Kyungsoo's hesitation is palpable as he steers Baekhyun to the corner of the hallway. “I owe you an apology for how I acted the first time we met.”

It may not be the best decision, but Kyungsoo accepts the invitation. Right across the building, there is a local cafe that serves brunch at a fair price. Baekhyun pays for the food and drinks while Kyungsoo saves a private spot where they can talk.

Kyungsoo is rocking slightly on the chair, finding it awkward to be alone with Baekhyun. His fingers are steady against the steaming mug of latte and his thoughts are stuck to possible exit strategies.

“What did you think about the discussion?” Baekhyun asks him.

“It was informative,” Kyungsoo says after a beat. “However, I'll have to disagree with your closing statement. I think not everyone has the advantage to succeed. There are people getting the short end of the stick every day. The idea that you consider yourself equal with the rest of the population doesn't sit right with me. It's a lie. You're in it for the claps.”

Baekhyun's mouth presses together into a thin line. “That's a very presumptuous accusation.”

“Let's hear a more well-founded rebuttal, then.”

“You're telling me to be sensitive, which is not a word in my vocabulary.”

“I'm not surprised.”

Baekhyun smiles listlessly. “I understand your sentiments, Kyungsoo, but you see, the world doesn't owe you a thing,” he says with a courage of conviction. “People may view success differently because they're not like me. But they have been put in a perfect position to succeed. All they have to do is be smart and resourceful.”

There is a tension headache attempting to ravage Kyungsoo's mood. He cannot wait to call it a day and forget about having an unpremeditated conversation with Baekhyun. “You should learn the definition of privilege.”

“You're a tough one, aren't you?” Baekhyun teases. Up-close, he wears an eminently delightful and communicative disposition. He does speak an air of superiority that seems to elevate him above the ordinary, like he knows what he wants from you, like he's subtly sending the message of what he can do for you in return. “You have to realize that life isn't meant to be fair, but if you work hard enough to get ahead, you'll thrive.”

Kyungsoo chooses not to argue. It's a lost cause.

“Look, I shouldn't have judged your professional capacity because you dare to express your admiration for Jongin,” Baekhyun says. “Junmyeon is right. You're nothing like the front-desk greeters employed to usher guests into an executive's office.” He gives a reflective pause. “I'm sorry. I must have left a bad impression.”

But an enemy should never be trusted. The top-of-mind challenge in business is identifying the people with power and giving them what they desire, which can be a tricky concept. One may pick a fancy-looking mask that fits them best and bury the person they truly are. And the thought itself terrifies Kyungsoo.

“I'll be straightforward. Junmyeon and I would love to work with you. You may be exactly what we need.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We're a progressive company and we aim to excel beyond our clientele's expectations. You're a brilliant man, Kyungsoo, and I'm interested in bringing you on board as Management Analyst. I believe the position suits you well and I'm certain you'll be able to deliver. It's a promising job.” Baekhyun grins. “You don't have to deal with administrative responsibilities or even a boss who doesn't value your personal time and weekend plans.”

There is a sourness that grows inside Kyungsoo with every chop of air he inhales. “You want me to leave J&T. Is that it?”

Baekhyun's lips pucker into a studious pout. “I want you to reevaluate your choices.” He slides a business card across the table. “You have the potential to turn into a big shot, Kyungsoo. Now, if you accept the offer, you can advance in your career and expand your roles in no time.”

“You sound confident. I assume you've done your research and have found enough evidence to prove your claim. But let's be real, you've never seen me work.”

“I don't have to,” Baekhyun says out of certainty. The sudden ringing interrupts him. He peeks at his phone to check the call. “Think about it.” He stands up. “See you around.” Finally, he heads for the exit.

Kyungsoo keeps the business card.

* * *

“Back pain?”

Kyungsoo notices Minseok standing at the door. He straightens his posture behind his desk, stretching his neck, left and right. “You'll hate me for saying this, but I'm aging fast because of my job.”

“Oh, shucks, are you sure you're ready to discuss that with me? Because I've got a list of perfect tricks to keep you young and healthy.” Minseok raises an eyebrow at him. “Seriously, Kyungsoo, what's holding you hostage beyond office hours? You've been staying behind more often.”

“I'd rather not enumerate, but a good example would be the must-do meetings I need to tailor-fit into the calendar of Mr. Kim's business trip to Manila.”

“Are you going to the Philippines?”

“Yeah, I'll be there with him to meet the Ayalas.”

“Little bit of advice if I may, breathe.”

“We're going out!” Taeyeon exclaims, putting an arm around Minseok's shoulders. She greets Kyungsoo with a smile.

“Who's we?” Minseok asks her.

“Taemin! And I'm thinking of bringing Jongin and Kyungsoo with the gang. Mr. Do. Shit. I'm sorry for being informal. I say a ton of unforgivable things when I'm excited.”

“Jongin's still here?”

Kyungsoo feels Minseok’s eyes observing him, searching for a hint.

“Can you drag Jongin's ass for me? I'll be downstairs with Taemin,” Taeyeon says to Minseok. “And Mr. Do, please, I'll do the honor of punching my brother in the face if he insists you do extra paperwork. I promise you.” She winks. “Let's have some fun tonight, okay? It's on me!”

“Yes, Ms. Kim, thank you for the invitation,” Kyungsoo replies in a rather professional tone.

“Don't be shy!” Taeyeon chirps before she dashes off the floor.

“Looks like you don't have a choice,” Minseok says. “Do you want to get Jongin by yourself? Or should I barge into his office and drag his ass as I've been told?”

Kyungsoo laughs. “Or we can go do both.”

Once they're settled in a private room, Minseok votes Taeyeon to begin the program, crowning her the queen of noraebang. Taeyeon bares no shame in owning the microphone and ripping through a rendition of “Heroine” by Sunmi. Taemin cheers for her, wild and animated, waving a tambourine in the air. Minseok sings along in the chorus as he pours shots and shots of soju.

Jongin glances over in awe at Kyungsoo, half-impressed, half-annoyed. “These are the things that HR should never see,” Jongin practically yells.

From the leather couches, Minseok punches in a combination of numbers. He launches into “I Miss You” by Kim Bum Soo. Taemin grabs Kyungsoo by the arm and invites him to join the shockingly top-notch performance. It doesn't take a minute before Jongin is on his feet, arm to arm with Taemin, screaming at the top of his lungs. Minseok hits a flawless high note.

“Our wonder Minseok!” Taeyeon shouts over the noise. “This talented man right here is the kind of man that ladies should go for! He’s sexy!”

They pass the songbook around and pick “Fantastic Baby” by Big Bang after a lengthy debate, then “Eyes, Nose, Lips” by Taeyang, where Taemin hogs the microphone, telling them it’s his favorite.

“My wife's calling,” Minseok moans. He excuses himself and leaves the room for a while.

“It's Kyungsoo's turn,” Taemin says. “Come on, Kyungsoo, let loose! Right, Jongin?”

Kyungsoo stands at the center, facing the large video screen, aware of how Jongin's eyes are glued to him as he performs an acoustic cover of “Boyfriend” by Justin Bieber.

“If I was your boyfriend, I'd never let you go,” Kyungsoo sings, swaying to the rhythm with Taemin. “Keep you on my arm, oh, never be alone. I can be a gentleman, anything you want.”

“Holy shit, Kyungsoo, do you have a girlfriend? You have an incredible voice!” Taeyeon asks after.

“Noona, you're drunk,” Jongin chides Taeyeon.

Minseok returns with two dark red-colored shots. He gives the other to Jongin. “Chill. It's a lovely night. Save the fight in the boardroom.”

“Okay, I'm serious. I'll set Kyungsoo up with my friend. She'll love you. Like a lot!” Taeyeon stifles a burp.

“You’re embarrassing him,” Jongin says, supremely irked.

Kyungsoo swallows as he meets Jongin's gaze. “Um, no, Ms. Kim, thank you. I'm a little focused on work and school right now.” He slides beside Jongin, making sure their knees touch. Jongin looks at him, aware of what he’s doing. “The stage is yours, Mr. Kim. Why don’t you put your energy into something fun?”

Jongin shrugs off his jacket and loosens his necktie. “Is that a challenge?”

Taemin chokes on a mouthful of chips. Minseok cackles inwardly. Taeyeon is dizzy and confused.

* * *

From the cubicle, Kyungsoo hears the flush of the toilet. “Are you all right?” he asks. Jongin makes a sound that’s a cross between a groan and a whimper. “Do you need a hand?” he tries again, stepping forward.

“I’m fine,” Jongin says weakly. “What in the world was that drink?” A thud. “Tasted like lacquered milk.”

Kyungsoo cringes. “I didn’t expect you’d take that hideous-looking shot. It was brave of you.” He leans against the wall. “How are you in there? Please don’t fall off and break your neck or something. Are you still dizzy?”

“My skull feels like it’s about to split in half.”

“I can drive you home. It’s past midnight.”

“How many drinks did you have?”

“Well, I kind of predicted I’d be nursing a certain drunk man tonight, so I had none.” Kyungsoo chuckles.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Jongin exhales. “Give me a second.” The door shudders slightly. “You should go back before they start looking for you. I don’t mind being here alone.”

“I’m not leaving you, you poor soul,” Kyungsoo jests. He can see the tip of Jongin’s shoes peeking under and interprets that Jongin is probably seated on the toilet like a helpless puppy.

“Are you still there?” No response. “Kyungsoo?” He pushes the door open, and Kyungsoo laughs. “You’re giving me a worse headache!”

Kyungsoo inches closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh, but I’ve never seen that look on your face, and Jesus, you really are sitting on that germy toilet. Must be comfortable?”

Jongin lets his head rest against Kyungsoo’s stomach. In a fraction of a second, Kyungsoo’s hand begins stroking the back of his neck softly. “You take care of me so well,” Jongin says under his breath. “It’s devastating.”

“I’ve grown used to it.” Kyungsoo smiles at himself.

“Yeah, me too.”


	13. On the Quiet

In the middle of the busy airport, Kyungsoo’s thoughts travel from one place to another. There is an ache that comes and goes, magnified by Yixing’s presence, often nagging him in relatively unobserved moments. He has grown accustomed to the profile of Yixing’s face, but today, as he bids him a final goodbye, Kyungsoo gathers enough strength to look him straight in the eye. 

“Thank you for coming,” Yixing says with a smile.

“You had to rebook your flight twice. I kind of started hoping you'd change your mind and stay here.” Kyungsoo tries to offer the response in a steady voice, but the sadness in it cannot be ignored. “But here we are.”

“Believe me, Kyungsoo, it was hard for me to decide. You and the kids made it even harder.”

“Just can't imagine how far you'll be.”

“I understand.” Of course, Yixing does. “Are you going to do the chick flick move where you wave back at me and sob uncontrollably the moment I step through the boarding gate?” he quips, earning a mirthless chuckle from Kyungsoo.

“Hyung, I'll not shed a tear. It sucks, but I guess I've come to terms with the fact that there's no way I can stop you.”

Yixing digs for a stack of papers, held together with a binder clip. He pushes the item across the table.

“What is this?” Kyungsoo asks.

“My manuscript. It's done. I want you to be the first person to read it.”

Kyungsoo leafs through the pages, gaping at the amount of work put into it. “Oh my god,” he mutters. “You did it.” He bolts upright and wraps Yixing in a bone-crushing embrace. Yixing's fingers drift soothingly up and down Kyungsoo's spine.

“The recipe for Hakka noodles is wedged in there,” Yixing says. “I'll miss you, Kyungsoo.” He strokes Kyungsoo's hair and kisses him on the temple. Kyungsoo tightens the hug, crying on the peak of Yixing's shoulder, head laid rest like a frail child. “This feels like a breakup, except that I'm absolutely in love with you.”

Kyungsoo laughs. “Stupid tears.” He sniffs before he withdraws from the contact and returns to his seat. “Sorry for staining your shirt.”

“It'll dry off.”

“You've worked really hard to finish your novel. I can't help but think of grandma. She would've been very proud of you.”

“Which was why I dedicated it to her.” Yixing grins. “Don't get too excited, though. I'll have to market it and beg people to buy a copy from the bookstores.”

“You write amazing. I'm sure the numbers will do their magic.”

“Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” Yixing checks the digital clock. He takes a steeling breath. “I can't miss my flight again. I should go.”

“Wait,” Kyungsoo says hurriedly. Yixing gazes back at him in question. “Hyung, you're right. I'm better now.” He swallows. “Do you remember Mr. Kim?”

“The Mr. Kim who drove you to the hospital? Yeah, your boss, what's wrong with him?”

“I like him, and he likes me.”

“Oh.”

Kyungsoo's skin prickles at the confession. It has been always challenging for him to expose a secret, doubly because he prefers to keep his personal life private and distanced from unwarranted judgment; in such manner, nothing is jeopardized. But this is Yixing, and Yixing is the sweetest, most compassionate person he has ever met. “Jesus,” Kyungsoo says, “I've never thought it'll be tough for me to say that out loud. I'm such an idiot.”

Yixing puts a hand above Kyungsoo's and squeezes it. “You're not an idiot. I'm glad you've found someone.”

“Are you not ashamed of me?”

“Why should I be? Unless you're sleeping with him for money, which I highly doubt.”

“I'm being reckless.”

“That's true, but you're old and smart enough to know what you're doing, Kyungsoo,” Yixing says gently. “I'm not in the position to criticize your choices.”

“What if it fails?”

“Then it fails. That's how relationships work. You're the best he's ever going to get, and if he sees that, you stay, and you don't shame yourself for it.”

* * *

Jongin turns as he catches a glimpse of a person by the door. There stands Kyungsoo, features framed by the afternoon sunlight, looking at him with a soft but fearless gaze. “Yes, Mr. Do? What can I do for you?” He shoots the pen back to its bin, then leans back, all ears.

“There's an urgent email that requires your attention,” Kyungsoo starts in the most reasonable tone he can muster. “It's a lengthy letter from my university. They would like you to participate in a master class, and Mr. Kim, I'm afraid your schedule is packed.” He pauses to search for a sign of suspicion in Jongin's expression. The executive seems to be contemplative yet inclined to a less pessimistic vantage point. “What I'm trying to say here is you're not obligated to agree,” Kyungsoo continues. “Besides, it's a weekend activity.”

“Tell them it's done,” Jongin says.

Kyungsoo's mouth twitches. “Are you sure?” he asks, which earns him a little frown from Jongin.

“You heard me, Mr. Do.”

“Yes, I did. But it would be great if you could scan the official letter first. I mean, really, you might change your mind and cancel at the last minute. We don't want that to happen.”

“Do we?” Jongin approaches him, sizing Kyungsoo up. “Lee Sungyeol looped me in the email, Kyungsoo. I had read the invitation before I responded to your evidently panicked announcement,” he says pointedly. “You forgot to mention they picked Junmyeon, too. Was that intentional?”

Having been confronted, Kyungsoo drops the facade. “You'd be glaring at me if I told you.”

Jongin casts him a smile that is either abstruse or vacant. “What's troubling you?”

“You know what's troubling me.”

“It's just a master class. I've done it several times.”

Kyungsoo nods, privately berating himself. “Can you please promise me one thing, though?”

“Are you telling me there's a condition attached to the invitation?” Jongin cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Don't act weird around him.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Let's try not to get in trouble, okay?” Kyungsoo strokes Jongin's arm, thumb brushing tenderly across the clothed area. “I'm sure it'll be fun and insightful.” He grins. “We have goals to reach.”

“You want to talk about goals?”

“Jongin, I'm serious.”

“You're standing in front of a grownup man.”

“A grownup, stubborn, arguably competitive man.”

Jongin huffs a laugh. “I'm not competitive.”

“Well, at least you admit to being stubborn.”

* * *

“You're having cinnamon rolls again? That's tragic.” Taemin pulls a long face. It's funny how the look resembles Jongin's classic you-are-ridiculous frown.

Kyungsoo blinks petulantly. Since day one, the cinnamon rolls in the cafe have been the best part of staying in the company. Jongin is pretty much a close second. “It's a fifteen-minute break, Taemin,” he says. “Sucks to be me.”

Taemin slips onto the opposite chair. “I'm sure as hell the ladies in accounting are dying to be you.” He smirks, holding a large cup of coffee from Juhyun's caffeine station. “Jongin tells me there's a master class where he and Junmyeon have been invited to.” Taemin fixes him under a scrutinizing gaze. “I'm concerned about you, Kyungsoo. It's not easy to stand between two men with a barely veiled, deep-seated mutual hatred.”

“Yeah, apparently, my job description includes playing referee.”

“I should probably talk to Jongin.”

“Don't feel burdened.” Kyungsoo practices calming breathing. Seriously, though. How bad will it be? Jongin's patience might be tested to the limit, but it's a professional setting; the worst he can do is mentally wish Junmyeon to struggle with finding a parking spot on campus.

“You're going to be fine, aren't you?” Taemin asks him.

“Well, it doesn't have to be complicated, does it?”

“No, but I hope you understand how it affects Jongin.”

“Make me understand, please?”

For a moment, Taemin gauges Kyungsoo’s curiosity. “Listen to me, Kyungsoo, okay?” he urges, sounding calm yet snappy. It's the voice Kyungsoo hears in the boardroom; it's the Taemin that cultivates a culture of leadership in the workplace. “Jongin isn't the type of person that speaks ill of others. It's one of the many things I admire about him.”

“That’s true,” Kyungsoo attests.

Taemin leans forward as if to whisper a secret. “Jongin had a tumultuous past. Yes, he did fail in business school during a couple of terms, then he met Baekhyun and Junmyeon. They clicked instantly. Same dreams. Different realities. I was beyond relieved when Jongin told me he had friends around him to keep him sane and motivated. He spent countless nights studying with Baekhyun and Junmyeon. They would plan future projects and product launches like they were born to conquer the world. It was a promising friendship. At least in the beginning.”

Kyungsoo's vision vaguely blurs. He does remember Jongin sharing minor details of the story back in Busan. It's almost heartbreaking to visualize how he dealt with such a nasty encounter in business school, considering Jongin's father passed away thereafter. “Jongin told me he was left behind because of Baekhyun's father.”

“Yeah, that greedy asshole of an old man.” Taemin scoffs. “By the time they reached junior year, Jongin started performing more than what was expected of him. The professors praised him a lot. He was the star in class. Unfortunately, Baekhyun wasn't happy about it. It began with a simple ‘Junmyeon could've done better than you’ before the feud between them escalated into something worse. That was where Baekhyun's father got involved with the administration. They used Junmyeon as the pawn to drag Jongin down.”

“Why Junmyeon? If Baekhyun wanted Jongin to fail, why didn't he put himself out there?”

“Because he needed Junmyeon to side with him and it made him appear unaccountable. Baekhyun groomed Junmyeon into thinking Jongin tried to compete with him.”

“Jesus,” Kyungsoo mumbles in disgust. “Junmyeon was innocent, then, wasn't he?”

“For fuck's sake, Kyungsoo, Junmyeon could've stopped Baekhyun. He could've celebrated Jongin's successes, too. But he didn't. He allowed Baekhyun to ruin Jongin, watched every shit unfold like he had nothing to do with it, and turned a blind eye to how Jongin's career suffered horribly.”

“I feel sick. Junmyeon has been nice to me ever since.”

“But have you considered that _nice_ can be deceptive?”

Kyungsoo squirms. “Taemin, come on, I literally met him at a bar, with my best friend.”

Taemin squints at him. “And when was that?”

“Um, the night before I started working here?”

“Coincidence? I fucking doubt.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Envy is fatally ugly,” Taemin says. “You may not completely see Junmyeon playing a huge part in Jongin's life, but please, be careful. Trust isn't an object you willingly hand to anybody.”

* * *

A man is emerging from the foyer. Kyungsoo’s stomach sort of flips as he realizes it’s Junmyeon attending to a call, and for a couple of seconds, he backpedals, debating whether or not to approach him. But Junmyeon spots him quickly and greets him with a slow smile right before Kyungsoo changes direction mid-stride.

Kyungsoo’s lips press together in a slight grimace. The truth is, he may have gone back and forth, day by day, to the idea of confronting Junmyeon after that conversation with Taemin. It’s more of a warning than a note; and it's daunting.

The problem with facing Junmyeon is he seems to hold a conscience that has been disordered, injured, and extinguished. He can be difficult to hate, partly because he helps the elderly cross the street, stocks the fridge like a responsible adult, and is respectful to servers in restaurants.

“I didn’t know you were back,” Kyungsoo says.

Junmyeon brightens. “I’ve missed you, Kyungsoo. I feel like an asshole for not responding to your messages. I just couldn’t find the courage to talk to you after what happened. I’m sorry.”

“Don't be. You needed to be alone.”

“I took photos in Switzerland and I was dying to send them to you. But I got so immersed in my negativity. Cowardly of me, I must admit.”

“Well, it’s good to see you, Junmyeon, really. Are you ready for the master class?”

“I'll be honest with you. I'm ready but worried. Jongin's in there and he doesn't look happy.”

“He doesn't smile that much, does he?”

“You can put it that way, but I'm more convinced that he hates the living lights out of me,” Junmyeon jests. “Does he know you're joining?”

“Yeah, he does.”

“That's pretty awkward.”

Kyungsoo scratches his chin. “I don't think he minds.” He steers Junmyeon into the corridor. “For what it's worth, I hope the absolute best for you and him.”

The program begins with Lee Sungyeol, the organizer, delivering an opening statement to the audience, followed by recognizing the guests: Kwon Yuri, Senior Vice President for Sales of a clothing retail company, and of course, Jongin and Junmyeon. Behind the podium, Sungyeol passes the microphone to Nam Woohyun, the facilitator slash host. Woohyun expounds on the nature of the activity, which will revolve around three teams.

From the front row, Jongin sneaks a glance at Kyungsoo, clear enough to send him the message that they should be in the same team or else. Kyungsoo's eyes shift around the area, anywhere but Jongin. He pretends to focus on Woohyun, nodding every once in a while for effect, laughing at the terrible jokes told without legitimate humor. An Oscar-winning performance, indeed.

“I'll have to request the students to draw from the bowl,” Woohyun says. “Remember, this is not a competition. You're here because you want more than just the education out of the program. You're here to familiarize yourself with the maximum number of people at a time. Most importantly, you're here to prepare for your post-MBA career.”

And then the unimaginable happens. Kyungsoo picks a random paper as instructed by Woohyun. _Mr. Kim Junmyeon_ , the writing reads. Kyungsoo flails mentally. With that, Jongin looks over at him again, searching for some hint, and Kyungsoo, whose palms have turned cold, shakes his head slowly. _God_. Fate is such a tease.

The task requires each team leader to delegate with the students and create situation analyses based on the case studies provided. Woohyun prompts them to proceed to their designated rooms.

“It's a pleasure to be the head of the group,” Junmyeon says with the poise and dignity of a man who cares too much about leaving a solemn impression. He settles in the rectangular table with the students. “Thank you for having me. I trust that everybody is excited to partake in the activity. Please feel free to share your thoughts and ideas. Let's learn from each other.” He beams. “Why don't we begin with a brief introduction about ourselves?”

They leap from topic to topic, and when interrogated, Junmyeon speaks intelligently, pausing in proper timing. What makes him unique is his ability to make the people around him feel comfortable with talking about complex subjects.

“Did you ever have moments where you asked yourself: is it worth it?” Soojung asks Junmyeon in the middle of the discussion.

“Yes, I did, almost every day,” Junmyeon says. “You're reaching for a high-level goal, and I'm not going to sugarcoat the truth. It's a physical and mental grind, but if you're determined to finish what you've started, trust me, it's worth it.” He grins. “You know, the cohort environment and evolving market have stretched me in surprising ways. We are all destined to do something. And I believe the occasional spikes of self-doubt have led me to where I belong.”

“Who inspired you?” Kyungsoo probes further.

Junmyeon remains quiet for a while, then he says, “My friend did. I met him in business school.”

* * *

Yuri's group volunteers in the activity and proceeds with a concise lecture on the correlation of business strategies and business goals.

It doesn't take long before Jongin's group follows. It's a dream team because almost everybody owns a business, from as small as cleaning services to as huge as car manufacturing. There is Jang Dongwoo whose energy radiates as he paces around the room and there is also Bae Suzy who has studied the subject well enough to explain it to the uninformed.

From his seat, Jongin nods at his group’s output. He glances over at Kyungsoo's direction, and Kyungsoo knows it's not a threat; it's the look Jongin gives every time he wishes him good luck.

Woohyun calls Junmyeon's group, and unlike the others, Junmyeon begins the presentation with an engrossing overview while absorbing the audience’s attention.

Kyungsoo's stomach roils as Junmyeon's little speech ends. He marches forward, clutching the laser pen for dear life before speaking in polished sentences and narrowing the topic into digestible chunks of information. He clears his throat as his eyes cut back to Jongin whose mouth briefly forms into a placid, I-am-watching-you smile. Kyungsoo swears there is something soft behind Jongin's exterior, and it drives him crazy for a fraction of a second.

“Questions, so far?” Kyungsoo asks.

“I agree with you, Mr. Do.”

He surveys the crowd and realizes it’s Jongin.

“As far as planning is concerned,” Jongin says, “it’s indeed crucial to know your competitors and market intimately. But what happens before you launch a new product? Don’t you think you should check with your staff, too? In which case, who in particular?”

_That is a bunch of questions_. Kyungsoo vision-boards the end of the fucking world. “I believe you are referring to your salesforce, Mr. Kim.”

Jongin slants a challenging look at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Kyungsoo doesn’t even stutter, nor hesitate.

“Then what do you suggest?”

“Um, since it covers team management, your initial efforts should focus on the knowledge of your salesforce. If you want them to sell the new product, they have to undergo rigorous training.”

“Let’s assume the new product has more intricate specifications. What do you do?”

Kyungsoo falters. He catches Junmyeon’s eyes across the room. “The members of your salesforce are likely to ignore the new product if that’s the situation you’re in.”

“Precisely.” Jongin leans back. “Fear of stepping out of the comfort zone, isn’t it?”

“You need to motivate them.”

“Of course, but _how_?”

“They are your frontliners in driving growth and success in your business. Hence, you come up with a structured incentive scheme that incorporates productive and profitable goals. For example, the first five people to close a deal receive rewards for their hard work—cash or non-cash. This will encourage the rest to do the same.”

“And that will cost the company some money.”

“Yes, but the members of your salesforce are responsible for the health of your company, including operations. They bring _the_ money to the table and contribute significantly to your revenue, which means, you must invest in them as well.”

Jongin waits for a beat, then nods at him. “Okay, Mr. Do.”

* * *

“How do you schmooze with a notoriously hard-to-please executive?” Kyungsoo asks, standing in front of Jongin with a pair of champagne flutes. Jongin takes one as offered. “Not to mention, charming.” And there tugs Jongin's smile in its full glory. With an air of triumph, Kyungsoo initiates a toast, which Jongin willingly accepts. “Flattery seems to work.”

“Lucky for you, Mr. Do, it does,” Jongin says.

“Congratulations on your team's victory,” Junmyeon says out of the blue.

Jongin gives him a direct stare that lacks warmth. “Don't be pretentious, Junmyeon. You're better than that.” He sounds very measured, almost detached, but he also reaches for another champagne flute from the passing server's tray. Jongin's eyes are soft and stern at the same time.

“Credit where credit is due.”

“Should've been your words to live by in business school.”

Junmyeon grins ruefully. “I get it. You're still angry.” He nods. “But we all did a great job today, didn't we? I know you're not as expressive as me, but you should be proud of Kyungsoo, too.”

“I am proud of him.”

“Really? Then why did you put him in a tight spot if you were confident with your team's presentation?”

“Excuse me?” Jongin seems offended.

“You couldn't even be nice to your subordinate for once.”

“Stop treating him like a child,” Jongin says, and in an attempt to mediate the situation, Kyungsoo steps forward, brushing a hand on Jongin's arm.

“And stop treating him like your property.”

“I don't do that, Junmyeon. In fact, I know what Kyungsoo is capable of and I trust him more than anybody.” Jongin's jaw clenches. “Don't tell me you're upset because he works with me. Is that the case?”

Junmyeon seethes. “What do you know?”

“Enough.”

“Come on, Jongin. Everything you do is business. Everyone in your life is business.”

“Shut up,” Kyungsoo interrupts in a rather controlled yet severe tone. “Both of you, shut up. While the others are having an amazing night, you two are fighting because of your egos. Please, stop. Please don’t make a scene. Not here. Not in my community. You can settle your issues outside.” There is a pregnant pause. He glances between Jongin and Junmyeon. “Jesus, I can’t believe I have to remind you, adults with fully developed brains, to act civilized in public.”

He heads for the exit.

* * *

Minutes later, Kyungsoo slips out onto the patio, and the instant the door closes behind him, the conversations bubble into silence. From a few feet away, Jongin stands quietly, arms crossed on his chest, contemplating the sky.

Kyungsoo trips over one of the wicker chairs, and the sound catches Jongin's attention.

“It's freezing out here,” Kyungsoo says, trying to strike up a conversation. He trudges toward Jongin, standing next to him, and his coat brushes against Jongin's jacket.

The quietness in the open-air lapses, and Kyungsoo keeps looking at him, searching for a clue that explains Jongin’s lack of reaction. “I'm sorry if I make things difficult for you,” Kyungsoo says, each syllable punctuated with concern.

“That's not your fault, Kyungsoo,” Jongin says finally. He stares at him with an expression somewhere between gentle and brooding. “Don't apologize.”

“I'll not hold it against you for feeling what you're feeling right now.”

“I appreciate that.”

Kyungsoo shifts closer.

“I'm sure you don't need protecting, but the thought that you might get hurt because of me is simply terrifying,” Jongin says.

Something in Kyungsoo's throat rises. He feels like crumbling, and the way Jongin's gaze wavers just makes it worse. He knows it's serious; he knows Jongin means it. Kyungsoo chuckles, breaking the tension, but Jongin remains passive, practically motionless. “What are you talking about?” he asks. “Jongin, if I get hurt, you'll probably be the last person I'll blame.”

“And I'll continue to complicate your life.”

“I'll quit.”

Jongin does the frown that is equal to you-are-ridiculous. The original. “It doesn't work that way. And as selfish as it seems to be, I don't want you to leave the company. At the same time, I've had enough of Baekhyun and Junmyeon, and I don't want you to get tangled in my mess.”

“Are you worried about me?”

“I am _very_ worried, okay?”

“Okay, I hear you,” Kyungsoo says comfortingly. “I do feel angry at the people who have wronged you, and Jongin, I can't promise to be there always, but I can promise you you'll never have to deal with something like that again alone, ever. You have me.” Kyungsoo smiles. “I'm a bit of a rusty boyfriend at times, but I'm willing to work on that. Trust me—”

Jongin pulls him into a brief kiss. “You're not a rusty boyfriend.” Another one, deep and chaste, and Kyungsoo reprises it, clutching Jongin's sleeve.

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo manages. “I self-deprecate to cope with the fact that I've been refusing to be happy for years.”

“Are you happy now?”

“Most days, yes.”

“And the other days?”

“Well, the other days are spent with other people in other places, not with you.”

Jongin laughs a little. “My heart just did a thing.”

“Oh, no,” Kyungsoo says, smiling. “Why don’t we go back inside? I’ll introduce you to some people.”

“And what will you tell them? Because you’ve got a lot of options.”

“That's easy. I'll tell them to invest in your company.”

But before they can even return to the function, Kyungsoo’s steps freeze, and so does Jongin’s. There is a ripple of shadow right across them, standing still at the door, with a pair of sullen, distant eyes.

It's Junmyeon.

* * *

> _Author's Note: Hi everyone, I ought to warn you. There will be slow updates because I'm buried under my readings and I've got a ton of papers to write. And I must admit, I've been feeling less motivated lately. But I can promise you one thing: I will not abandon Hired by the Boss for said reasons. If you're reading this, I want you to know that I'm grateful for the support you've given since chapter one. You keep me going._


	14. But to What Extent

It's the third day of the business trip. Despite Jongin and Taemin's absence, the entire floor manages to function at its optimum, except that Kyungsoo has been tethered to the phone for nearly fifteen minutes. “No, that's not possible,” he says in an unusually stern voice. “We need the contract tomorrow, first thing in the morning, or you'll have an 8.2 million deal hanging above your head.”

The call ends after an energy-draining cycle of bargaining, convincing, begging—and mental cussing, if that counts. Lunchtime is five minutes away, and screw the clock, Kyungsoo cannot wait to grab a palatable serving of kimchi fried rice.

“Shit day?” Minseok asks, standing at the door.

Kyungsoo responds with a half-hearted shrug. “I'd say a bit of a dried-up, moldy sandwich, but I'm still vertical and breathing and I should be grateful for that.” He blinks wearily, adjusting his eyeglasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, shucks.” Minseok clicks his tongue. “Normally, I'll be your old man and spew philosophical nonsense to make you feel better, but that's not what you need right now,” he says, earning a lazy smile from Kyungsoo. “Grab your coat.” He beckons. “Let's get you a well-deserved meal.”

It doesn't take them long to reach a nearby diner that serves the best spicy seafood stew in the city.

“Hyung, you shouldn't pity me,” Kyungsoo says. “There's a line between being alone and being lonely. Do you really think I'm lonely?”

“No, I don't, but you're in a foul mood, and have I told you people eat well when they have someone to share their food and table with?”

“Okay, and what are you going to do with the packed lunch that your wife prepared for you?”

Minseok pursues a mouthful of seasoned spinach. “Don't worry. I'm a hearty eater. I'll have enough space for it later. A few burps and I'm good to go.” He grins. “Speaking of my wife, we're celebrating our anniversary on the 27th. Can you help me pick a gift?”

“Of course. What do you have in mind?”

“Not to blow my own horn, but I'm a pretty decent husband, Kyungsoo,” Minseok says proudly. “My wife is like the queen of skincare. I've got her a Beauteque Monthly subscription, and she loves it!”

Kyungsoo muses. “Anything else she loves?”

“Me?”

“Jesus, hyung.” Kyungsoo laughs. “I'm free on Saturday. If you're not too busy with your husband duties, let's go out and buy the perfect gift for her. And maybe grab some coffee after? What do you say?”

“Let’s do it.”

“Great.” Kyungsoo nods. “By the way, how long have you been married?”

“Almost ten years, but we've been together since college.” There is a contemplative pause. Minseok scowls at the sudden realization. “Was that a trap? You did the Math, didn't you?”

“No!” Kyungsoo cries, chortling. “I'll never guess your age, and it's not a big deal, really. You're kind. That's what matters. Like you said, the trick to a happy life is pretending you don't age, and you're so good at it.”

“I'm done being upset over a meaningless number. For Christ's sake, I wasn't born to anticipate my death; I was born to live. That simple.” Minseok raises a finger for another round of side dishes. “How old are you again?”

“Um, twenty-five? I'm turning twenty-six in a couple months.”

“Your twenties should be reckless. Don't bust your existential dread meter. Just enjoy your journey.”

“I try to keep the fire under control,” Kyungsoo says with a trace of apprehension.

Minseok looks over at him. “I know it's not the sort of thing you talk about, but I can see you're good for Jongin, and he's good for you, too.”

Kyungsoo practically chokes on the stir-fried zucchini. He grabs the glass of water and empties it in a huge, desperate gulp. He's rendered speechless as Minseok eyes him, full focus, observing intently.

“There's no shame in it,” Minseok says in a comforting voice. “You're only human. Your heart does that weird twirl and you curse at your reflection in the mirror then chide yourself for liking that one person.”

“Well, that used to be my morning routine,” Kyungsoo jests.

“Shucks. I can't imagine the agony.”

“Let's not delve into that.”

“Seriously, Kyungsoo, I've figured it out long before and I don't want you to be embarrassed with your relationship. I think it being private is an intelligent decision.”

“An intelligent decision,” Kyungsoo echoes. “I guess. I'd definitely be fired on the spot if the board found out. Or HR. Or the press. I'm a walking termination paper.”

He remembers Junmyeon, and not only Junmyeon's reaction that night. It has been a productive week, with terrific news from the company's international partners, but behind the fruits of Kyungsoo's efforts lie a multitude of questions. _Should I meet with Junmyeon and explain myself? What harm will I bring to Jongin if I do?_ Mighty good riddance. The silence between friends doesn't make a friendship, does it?

“I'll do everything in my power to keep you and Jongin safe. That's a promise,” Minseok says. He notices the change in Kyungsoo's expression. “Oh, dear, this conversation is best paired with a bottle of soju.”

“We're not drinking in the middle of the day, hyung.”

* * *

There are frames upon the gallery wall, art in the finest form of self-expression, colors conveying human emotions. Ryeowook's father stands with an air of collected grace. His outfit has a striking resemblance to Johnny Depp's Willy Wonka costume in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, but brighter, classier, minus the hat. He's scrutinizing a painting—all its lurid details, from the precision of strokes to the sharpness of curves to the dilution of lines.

When he spots Ryeowook and Kyungsoo walking toward his direction, he consciously flashes them a radiant smile. “Are you having a great time, Kyungsoo?” he asks. “Ryeowook said you came straight from work.”

Kyungsoo throws a hand around to encompass the space surrounding them. “It’s spectacular.”

“Thank you. We spent months deliberating the design and the theme. Lots of fun stuff. I told them to use yellow string lights at the entrance hall. That, a suggestion I got from the millennials on the Internet. Creative youngsters. Our future.” He chuckles. “Anyhow, I’d be more grateful if you could join me and Ryeowook for dinner.”

“Yes, uncle, of course, that would be wonderful.”

“Excellent.”

“I’m warning you. He’ll probably interrogate your life choices while you’re chomping on your rice cake,” Ryeowook says as soon as his father reverses to a group of guests.

“Your father is very talented, hyung. I don’t care if he babbles on about Queen or artists from the nineteenth century. I will handle him. I _can_ handle him.”

“Don't get him started, young man, or you'll have to keep your eyes wide open till the wee hours of the morning.”

“Jesus, I had flashbacks.” Kyungsoo grimaces.

“My 22nd birthday? Or was it 23rd? You barely slept.”

“Not to mention, my shoes went missing.” Suddenly, he pats the pocket of his coat, his phone vibrating on his chest. “It’s Mr. Kim,” he says as he catches Ryeowook’s watchful eyes. “Do you mind?”

Ryeowook looks surprised. “You never answer Kim Jongin’s call beyond office hours.”

“It might be important.”

“Go ahead. And be quick.”

Kyungsoo doesn't miss how Ryeowook casts him a sidelong glance as he excuses himself and huddles over a private corner. “Hi,” he greets Jongin on the other end of the line. “What's the matter?”

“Nothing that should worry you,” Jongin says. “Taemin and I just got back to the hotel, and well, I ought to tell you the good news.” He pauses for a beat. “Chairman Lim has agreed to enter a five-year contract with us.”

“Oh my god, that’s fantastic. Congratulations.”

“To more successes, right?”

“To more successes, indeed.”

“And I miss you.”

Kyungsoo breaks into a smile. “Me too, Jongin,” he says. “See you tomorrow?”

“Hold on a second. I’m being completely comfortable here talking to you, but correct me if I’m wrong, aren’t you supposed to be out with your friend?”

“It’s fine, although I should go before he wanders off somewhere.”

“Understood. I just couldn’t wait longer and I wanted you to be the first person to hear the good news,” Jongin says. “Enjoy your evening, Kyungsoo.”

“Okay, take care.” Kyungsoo returns to the same spot and joins Ryeowook. “Sorry about that.”

“Confidential matters, huh,” Ryeowook says. He tilts a suspicious look at him. “Don’t tell me your boss, a busy man who likely spends his dinner sipping on expensive wine, decided to check up on you at 7:00 P.M.”

“He kind of did.”

“You and Kim Jongin are friends now? What else am I missing, Kyungsoo?”

“It’s just a conversation, hyung. An update on the project in Singapore, to be precise.”

Ryeowook seems to leave it at that, but the information interests him. “Did he close the deal?”

Kyungsoo gives a reluctant nod, as if acknowledging the truth of the situation. He doesn’t elaborate further and resorts to a curt _yes_.

* * *

The rest of the morning rolls around, bright and prolific, except that Kyungsoo stumbles upon Hoon in the elevator and is forced to breathe beside him for at least a minute. The man, a tad cold to the human species, maintains a fair yet prudent distance from him, which doesn't bother Kyungsoo. Hoon literally hates everybody. It's nothing personal.

“How is it going, Mr. Sung?” Kyungsoo attempts to initiate a conversation.

Hoon doesn't even spare him a glance. “Don't put on a show, Mr. Do. You've never cared about the shit I do for the company.” He fixes him with a glare. “The only time I want you to speak to me is when I ask you a question in the meeting room. Do you understand me?”

Kyungsoo remains unperturbed. “As you wish, sir,” he retorts.

The tone is delivered too casual for Hoon's liking. His expression noticeably hardens, and with frozen anger, he jumps out of the lift as it reaches his floor.

_Is it from you?_ Jongin's text message reads. Without further ado, Kyungsoo proceeds to Jongin's office and finds him fiddling with a rectangular box—a surprise gift he left earlier.

Jongin lifts the fountain pen with a medium, obsidian-shimmer nib. It spells the initials K.J.I carved in a silvery, serif font, bold enough to complement the sheer simplicity of the design. “I don't want to sound self-absorbed but I assume it's from you.” He smiles. “I like it.”

“Well, you'll need it for the contract signing,” Kyungsoo says.

Jongin moves with a few purposeful strides. He pulls him into an undoubtedly affectionate hug. “I feel like I haven't held you long enough ever since,” he mumbles against Kyungsoo's hair.

“What did Singapore do to you?”

“Made me miss you?”

“Oh, Jesus, help me.” Kyungsoo feigns a groan. He runs a hand along Jongin’s spine, stroking him in aimless, calming circles. “Let's not get carried away, Mr. Kim,” he reminds him. “We're in the office. _Your_ office.”

Jongin retreats, facing him with a frown. “ _My_ office, _my_ rules.” He sits on his desk and curls his fingers around its edges for leverage. “Will you come with me tonight?”

“Fancy dinner date?”

“Not your thing, I reckon.”

“Oh, what’s my thing, then?”

“Just you and me. How about my place?”

“Are you gonna show me your childhood photos?”

Jongin shrugs. “More than that, perhaps?”

Kyungsoo’s cheeks burn at the thought. “Okay,” he says, scratching his chin. “Now, back to work. Um, yeah, you’re expected to meet with corporate marketing.” Gingerly, Jongin plops back on the swivel chair. “I’ll see you in ten minutes? Mr. Kim?”

“Sure, I’ll be at the conference room in a while, Mr. Do.”

* * *

By quarter to six, they arrive at Jongin's home. First things first, Mira isn't around to greet them and offer a strange-looking but delicious smoothie. The length of the foyer leaves enough room for Jongin's tell-tale encounters in Singapore. He mentions Taemin's insistence to shoot videos of him at the Merlion Park and Chairman Lim's fascination with hairless breeds of dog.

Jongin brings a pair of wine glasses from the kitchen. “So, what happened between you and Mr. Sung?” he asks. “Frankly, I'd be surprised if he bothered talking to you.”

Kyungsoo picks the nearest spot on the couch as soon as he takes the drink. “He did, but it was a slightly unpleasant conversation.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“No. I mean, I should’ve kept my mouth shut. He’s a distinguished business expert. I respect him for that.”

“It doesn't give him the right to treat you as inferior. You know, Kyungsoo, you can defend yourself to the assholes in the office. I'll not stop you from that. Just stand up for yourself, if necessary, okay?”

In a sense, it's unbelievable how Jongin works with the tenacity of a valiant captain. The corporate world can be toxic. But Jongin isn’t one to falter when challenged or provoked. He does have a good heart and a bad temper at work. It's the way he's built for the company, and Kyungsoo accepts him for it.

Kyungsoo leans back against the cushion, eyes glued to the ceiling. “An exercise in futility? Sounds exhausting.” There is a beat of silence. He catches Jongin staring at him, quiet and serious, faffing around with a now empty glass. “I thought you were going to show me your childhood photos.”

“They're upstairs,” Jongin says, “in my room.”

As expected, Jongin’s room is spacious and immaculate, left at its best state, with homey, white-painted walls and noble woodwork. The pillows on the bed have been conveniently arranged, and behind the area reveals a walk-in closet that stretches wide open to accommodate all types of clothes, shoes, and accessories.

Jongin slides past Kyungsoo, headed for the balcony, square and cozy in terra cotta. The space features a nook with folding chairs, warm hues popping, creating an intimate ambiance, especially at the late hours of the night or on a rainy day. Below it flows an inviting vista of the cityscape.

“Your father was such a handsome man.” Kyungsoo continues to leaf through the pages of the photo album.

The corners of Jongin's lips tug into a bigger smile. “Obviously,” he says point-blank. “The proof is right in front of you. What's there to doubt?”

Kyungsoo makes a noise somewhere between a snort and a laugh. He chances on a picture of Jongin, looking young and studious in a high school uniform. “You had the Justin Bieber hairstyle?”

Jongin's expression switches from pleased to baffled. He turns to the photo album. “I almost forgot I did.”

“Or you purposely erased it in your memory.” Kyungsoo simpers, and with an outstretched hand, he fixes Jongin's bangs, pressing them flat on his forehead. Jongin's brow wrinkles. “You could still pull it off.”

“That would be a terrible addition to the online forums.”

“Your haters await.”

“I'll consider suing them this time,” Jongin quips. “Actually, I'm curious.” He leans toward a little before he empties another glass of wine. “What did you think of me? Back then?”

“Well,” Kyungsoo goes on, fumbling for words, “we had a pretty rough start.”

“Yes, we did.”

“When your sister said you were insufferable, I couldn't help but agree.”

Jongin does his signature frown. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. It sucked to be at work. I used to wish you'd have strips of kimchi stuck between your teeth and embarrass yourself in a meeting.”

“That's unforgivably cruel of you!” he harrumphs. “I'd rather be clueless about the other wishes you made.”

“Fine. Let's keep it wholesome.”

“And there's more? For god's sake, am I so detestable?”

“No, of course not,” Kyungsoo negates. “It doesn't even matter now, Jongin. You’re not the person I thought you were. I was blinded and judgmental. I’m glad I snapped out of it. Or I wouldn’t be here.”

That relaxes the muscles on Jongin’s face. “For the record, I expected that from you,” he says, raising his chin. “It’s easy to notice how persistent you are in proving your point, no matter how petty or trivial it is—something I’ve come to admire about you.”

Kyungsoo’s eyebrows scrunch at the compliment.

“Not in a patronizing way, of course,” Jongin adds. “It’s a fact I can’t hide from you, and one I should’ve told you earlier than now.”

For a moment, Kyungsoo glances over at him. “Thank you,” he says with a ghost of a smile. “I'll try to be consistent with that.”

“You're tough, Kyungsoo, and I like it. Like you for that, I guess? I sound uncertain, but I’m actually certain of that.” Again, a flush of shame. “Please tell me to shut up.”

“I don’t want you to shut up,” Kyungsoo says, grinning. He inches closer. “Don’t shut up.”

“And make a fool out of myself?”

“No, no, I’m beginning to think you and I are meant to laugh about bad things.”

“How about a little less laughing and more doing?”

Kyungsoo yanks the collar of Jongin's shirt and kisses him briefly. “Are you sure?” he asks. “Because I do very bad things and I do them very well.”

It's only a short walk, where he stops long enough to savor the press of Jongin's lips, kissing him back, features defined under the lighting, feet dragging them farther back into the room. Kyungsoo's chest begins to pound faster, and he lets Jongin hold him, feels Jongin's biceps go hard with effort when he squeezes him.

He tumbles backward and maneuvers Jongin onto the foot of the bed. Kyungsoo's eyes slide up and down Jongin's body, impressed by how he looks tousled and attractive to a crazy degree.

“You feeling generous?” Jongin asks, unbuckling his belt, plucking it open.

Kyungsoo settles between Jongin's legs, knees on the floor. “Lucky you,” he says, “I am.”

There is a thin trail of hair threaded from Jongin's navel and below. He scrabbles at the buttons of the damned dress shirt they have been trying to rid of, and as Kyungsoo's tongue brushes over the tip of his cock, Jongin's gaze flickers to the movement, so obscene, so profane, and so fucking delicious that he shudders.

Kyungsoo's mouth takes him all in, hard and streaked with precum, with an unremitting pace. Jongin's fingers loosely tangle in his hair, giving the occasional tug whenever he involuntarily spasms, but not quite pushing him further. Kyungsoo likes it, appreciates it even, and can only go as far as he allows.

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin says, like a warning. “If you keep doing _that_ —”

“Okay, since I haven't kissed you in days.” Kyungsoo crawls on top of Jongin, legs sprawled, moaning into Jongin's mouth as he feels a hand rubbing his ass. “Was that nice, though?” he asks, teasing. Instead of a direct response to the question, Jongin flips him over the bed, bears down on him fully, pinning him onto the mattress.

“I'll show you nice,” Jongin says. He kisses him with abandonment, deep and hot, confident in a way that is familiar with Kyungsoo. His jaw is sharp and rough with faint stubble, possibly from the business trip.

Kyungsoo doesn't hesitate to return the favor. His body rests trapped under Jongin, but he doesn't care. He likes Jongin's weight on him, likes the broadness of Jongin's shoulder that cages him, likes the lewd sound he makes whenever he grinds against him.

Jongin works on the buttons of Kyungsoo's shirt, and Kyungsoo slightly stiffens at the touch. “What is it?” Jongin asks between kisses. “Do you want me to slow down?”

“No, no, Jongin, please,” Kyungsoo says in a tone that borders pleading and urgent. “You're doing a great job.” Oh, shit, he struggles to maintain a straight face at that. “Jesus, fuck, I'm literally trying to have sex with you and my brain is stuck in office language.” He shifts, embarrassed. “I want you.”

Jongin laughs a little. “I can tell.”

“I mean, I want you, like really bad it's making me nervous.”

Jongin seems genuinely flustered. He kisses him again, soft yet fervent enough to smother Kyungsoo's protests. In an effort to balance the situation, he shrugs his shirt off and tosses it to the floor, leaving himself half-naked.

It's not the first time, but there is a difference between seeing Jongin topless and seeing Jongin _up-close_ topless, and Kyungsoo doesn't bother analyzing it. He coaxes him for another kiss, deep and unbridled, nipping at Jongin's lips.

When he trails a hand south to stroke Jongin's cock, feeling it throb at the touch, Jongin hisses in satisfaction. It doesn't take him long to shed the rest of his clothes, leaving them across the crumpled sheets.

Kyungsoo does the same, except that his trousers get stupid stuck around his toes. He chuckles, flushing as Jongin helps him with it.

“It's okay,” Jongin says gently. “It happens.”

The room isn't as freezing as it should be, but Kyungsoo's entire body shivers, baring every blemish, every scar that makes him imperfect.

Jongin reaches for the nightstand and paws through the items in the drawer. It takes him a couple of torturous seconds to pop the bottle of lube open, rip the foil, and slide the condom down his cock. He rubs the tip against Kyungsoo, then pushes in with a slow, smooth move.

Kyungsoo is warm and tight and clenching. He meets each thrust, arching into the snap of Jongin’s hips. He licks at the spot under Jongin’s ear, buried in the roots of the hair, shivering through the drag and glide of body against body, skin against skin. Each part of him feels sensitive to Jongin’s fingertips, lips, tongue, and he can name it all, but right then and there, he surrenders, feeling him, needing him.

Jongin fucks him nice and quickens the pace deliberately. When he lies back on his haunches, he pulls Kyungsoo close into his lap, allowing him to bounce up and down his cock, and for a while, it gets satisfyingly rough as Jongin’s grip around Kyungsoo’s waist tightens in the process.

Kyungsoo holds onto Jongin's arms, quite shamelessly, riding him to orgasm, head tossed back and neck exposed. He's writhing, breathless, taking Jongin's cock all the way, and he doesn't know what words are coming out of Jongin's mouth. If he's being honest, he does hear “fuck” and “beautiful” in one sentence. _God_. It doesn't even matter. All he knows is he's close and he may have left a tiny, reddish mark on Jongin's collarbone.

The room whirls like a blur as he comes, spilling drip after drip over Jongin's knuckles, and Jongin eventually follows, panting, cursing under his breath.

They freefall on the bed, ragged and blissed out, and Jongin carefully rolls out and gets the condom off. He weaves a hand through his sweat-slicked hair, then glances at Kyungsoo next to him, almost tenderly.

“You hungry?” Jongin asks him.

Kyungsoo laughs. “Really? Does that work for you? Sex then dinner?”

“Sex then dinner. Dinner then sex. I’m not picky. I can do both.”

“God, yes, let’s order takeout, please. And we’ll decide.”

Jongin can only kiss him again.

The following morning, Kyungsoo is awakened by the stream of morning sunlight filtering through the curtains, straight from the balcony, where Jongin sits with a laptop on the outdoor table. His phone is pressed against his ear. Of course, the ever-hardworking man he’s dating has some serious business to attend to.

He gets dressed in the shirt hanging on the chair, then trudges toward Jongin, greeting him with a peck on the cheek. “Good morning,” he mouths, and Jongin twists an arm around him as he continues to speak over the phone.

“Absolutely,” Jongin says. “I'm quite busy with work, yes. Everything is fine.”

Kyungsoo nuzzles the crook of Jongin's neck, planting and tracing soft kisses, smiling against the patch of skin. “You look hot in sweatpants,” he whispers. “Guess what I want for breakfast.”

Jongin stifles a chuckle and flees to the corner. He gestures a finger at Kyungsoo, telling him to wait a few more seconds. “Okay, see you,” he says before he ends the call. “Good morning to you, too, Kyungsoo. Did you sleep well?”

“I kind of had to wrestle with you at two in the morning because you were hogging the blanket and it was cold.”

“That’s odd. I promise you, though, I'm generous in other things.”

Kyungsoo brushes the stray strands of Jongin's hair away from his face. “You're up early. Is everything all right?”

“It was Mother,” Jongin tells him.

“Oh my god,” he cries, mortified. “I'm sorry, Jongin. I was completely unaware that you were talking to your mother. Wait, what's going on? Is she okay?”

“She'll be here next week and she’s throwing a small gathering.”

“Is there a problem with that? Should I help you clear your schedule?”

Jongin steps forward. “I don't want to freak you out or anything, but I'd be happier if you could come.”

There is a momentary silence. “Are you sure? I mean, it's not your usual banquet; it’s your mother’s party.”

“So I’m inviting you.”


	15. Every Feeling

“Tokyo flight on the 19th, check-in at 10 o'clock,” Kyungsoo says. He skims further through the phone. “I should warn you about tomorrow. Your morning is booked with the new Head of Marketing and Communications. Lunch at the restaurant Pierre Gagnaire. Eric will collect you by 11:30. Interview with Pulse at two.”

Jongin signals the server for another round of drinks. “Can you check Friday for me?”

“Sure.” He scrutinizes the digital calendar, eyes concentrated and squinting. “Ms. Song and Mr. Ngo? I didn't realize they were scheduled at a similar time.” He stops scrolling and turns to Jongin. “I'm sorry, Jongin. I'll contact Ms. Song's office as soon as possible and have it moved in the afternoon.”

“On such short notice? Seems quite drastic,” Jongin surmises. “I'll stick with the original plan, but you'll have to take Mr. Ngo. He's a bit inquiring and bilious, not as techy as an average person, which means you must speak to him in the layman's language. Technical products can be challenging to explain. You've got to help him with that.”

“Wait, you want me to represent you?”

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

“There is none, really. It's just that I lack proper experience.”

“Proper experience,” Jongin repeats in a rather critical tone. “I'm not sure how you define that, but you have the business acumen and the social graces to engage in a corporate situation. You'll be fine, Kyungsoo.”

From the vantage point of an observer, the message is delivered and expressed objectively, well enough to crush every obstructive thought that runs in a person's mind. But it's a terrible time for Kyungsoo—more pressure on him, more scrutiny from management. Something about being with Jongin makes him want to try harder, but how far can he go?

“Will you do it?” Jongin asks him.

“Like I have a choice.” Kyungsoo empties the glass of wine.

Jongin frowns. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing, okay?” Kyungsoo runs a jerky hand through the hair. “You’re right. I’ll be fine. No point in fussing over a simple task.”

“Let’s call it a day,” Jongin says after a beat. “I’ll drive you to your place.”

Perfect. Now Jongin looks royally pissed, and that can either mean “I'll drive you to your place because the golden rule states sex comes after dinner” or “I'll drive you to your place because you're not worth the goddamn effort and your shrinking confidence exhausts me.” Perhaps neither.

The cobblestones rattle underneath the tires as the car veers out of parking space. When they reach the length of the road, Kyungsoo huddles against the window.

“You're very quiet,” Jongin says suddenly. “Is work becoming too much?” He stretches an arm from the driver's seat and pats Kyungsoo's thigh with a gentle squeeze. “I didn’t mean to upset you back there.”

“No, Jongin, please, it’s not your fault,” Kyungsoo says gently. “My mind is all over the place, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“That’s concerning. Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“I've been thinking about your mother's party,” Kyungsoo replies. He hesitates to continue, but Jongin encourages him with an anticipatory glance. “I’m worried about how things will be for you and me, I guess. It’s a thought that comes and goes.”

Jongin's focus remains straight ahead. “And why do you feel that way?”

“Well, it's not a situation I'm familiar with.”

“Kyungsoo, it's never my intention to force you in a difficult situation. I understand if you're still uncertain, and whatever your decision may be, I'll not take it against you. That’s a promise. Okay?”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Don't stress yourself out. No is a valid answer.”

Kyungsoo’s hand hovers over Jongin's. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, and it’s scary, but I want to be there, and maybe just be with you.”

Jongin smiles. “I appreciate that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“My stepfather is coming,” Jongin says, earning a puzzled gaze from Kyungsoo. “I haven't mentioned him to you before for the simple reason that I don't like talking about him. His name is Adam. Mother stays in New York and lives with him. She visits every once in a while.” He pauses. “It's a shame to bare that secret in front of you, and if there's one thing you should know, it's that I feel distant from the family I have.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to apologize. I think I'm braver around you,” Jongin says. “You're the first person I've ever been proud of dating, however in the worst of circumstances. You fascinate me, Kyungsoo. It's hard to keep you to myself.”

Kyungsoo chuckles. “You're pretty honest about it, aren't you?”

“As honest as it gets.”

* * *

The first things that strike Kyungsoo are the high ceiling and the cloying scent of flowers in the entrance. He saunters down the function hall, where at least a hundred visitors mill around, chattering, laughing, and swaying to the music.

He searches for a familiar face. It doesn't matter if it's Taemin or Minseok, but they are nowhere near him. In an adjacent corner, he spots Hoon, whose shoulders have been sharply padded. Not Mr. Sung, he thinks. A once-over to the left, then to the right, and oh boy, here goes Jennie, charging toward him, a vision in a v-neck maxi dress.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, voice laced with suspicion. “Did you invite yourself to Mrs. Kim's party?” She laughs a sardonic laugh. “Mr. Do, if I were you, I'd be embarrassed.”

Kyungsoo suppresses a snort. “Ms. Jennie, please.” His lips curve into a tiny smirk of sorts. “I'd be more embarrassed if I had your self-aggrandizing superiority complex, and definitely, if I advertised substandard facial mask and acne-causing liquid foundation,” he says point-blank. Jennie's contempt becomes more palpable, judging by how she looms over him in an attempt to appear taller, thanks to her four-inch stilettos. “Your hatred is fully justified now, but I will not let you bully me. Not outside the office.”

“You do realize I'm Jongin's girlfriend, don't you? I can get you fired.”

“Of course, you can. Is there anything else you'd like to say to me?”

“Don't you dare—”

“There you are!” Taeyeon exclaims, coming from behind. She links her arms with Kyungsoo's. “What took you so long?” she whines, then turns to greet Jennie. “Hi, Jennie. Good to see you. Have you gone to the dessert section? I guarantee you, having a sweet tooth helps.” She smiles brightly. Jennie isn't impressed. “Oh, honey, don't be sad! I'm sure you still feel absolute shit about my brother dumping you, but it's for the best.”

Jennie's face flushes. Her mouth forms into an ugly twist and her eyes flit across the room.

“I hope you don't mind, but I'll have to interrupt your conversation with my escort,” Taeyeon says. “I'm with Mr. Do. If you'll excuse us.” She maneuvers Kyungsoo toward the bar. “Shit, that was vile,” she mumbles to herself. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No, no,” Kyungsoo says in a hurry. “It was nice of you, Ms. Kim. Thank you.”

They occupy the seats, and Taeyeon beckons the bartender. “You must be looking for Jongin because he's been looking for you, too.”

“Um, yes. I can manage, though.” Kyungsoo's stomach plummets with a manifestation of dread.

“Relax, I'm far from witchy!” Taeyeon quips. “I don't judge you. In fact, I think you're very professional about it.” The bartender serves a pair of whiskey on the rocks. She takes a satisfying sip. “You shouldn't feel guilty. It's a tough situation, but remember, what people don't know, people can't destroy.” She sighs quietly. “You'd probably not believe it, but I had partners I kept out of the public eye.”

“What happened to them?”

“Fired them instantly and had them banned in the headquarters. One cheated. Not a fucking surprise because he craved sexual intimacy while I was busy conquering the world. The other stole money from me and went missing.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah, a major oh my god moment in my life for sure.”

“That’s awful. I'm sorry.”

Taeyeon hisses. “Oh, god, I've had a long list of failed relationships. My ex-husband is surprisingly the least sleazy. But I'm in a better place now. I may be divorced, but I have Raeon.” She taps Kyungsoo on the arm to get his full attention. “You and Jongin should come visit him. He misses you both.”

“I'll let Jongin know.” Kyungsoo smiles.

She spots Jongin marching toward them. “There he is. I'll leave you two. Have a great night, Mr. Do.” She beams at him before she slides past the cloud of guests.

Jongin nods a salutation at the groups of men and women as he winds through the crowd. Fortunately, the prying ladies have been too busy chatting to notice him. “Can I keep you company?” he asks Kyungsoo.

“Can you?” Kyungsoo says with barely veiled innuendo. He makes a deliberate effort of gauging him. “I'm almost certain it's not a good time to mention that I've underestimated your mother's small gathering. I'm quite underdressed.”

“Like I mind?” Jongin directs him farther down the hall. “You look beautiful to me,” he says as he runs a hand on the small of Kyungsoo's back. “You always do.”

Perhaps a black turtleneck paired with a black blazer isn't that bad.

When Jongin points in a specific direction, Kyungsoo’s eyes dart to the svelte woman in the corner. Mrs. Kim stands with a regal posture next to a foreign gentleman. She wears an off-shoulder burgundy dress. Her hair towers above her head in an elegant updo. She has high, ruddy cheekbones, and a youthful demeanor, defined by subtle lines and pallid skin, a reflection of long-lived years.

“Jongin, where have you been?” Mrs. Kim asks in an impatient tone.

“Mother,” Jongin says, “I want you to meet Kyungsoo. We work together.”

Mrs. Kim’s expression softens. “Oh, hello, Kyungsoo,” she greets, grinning, genuinely pleased. “You must be a new friend of Jongin. I’m so sorry if you’re not. I’ve missed out on a lot, haven’t I?” She reverses to Jongin and strokes him on the peak of the shoulder. “I’m surprised you’ve finally brought another friend home. I keep on telling Taemin to introduce you to people—people who are good for you. You wouldn’t feel alone if you had a support system around you.”

“You left,” Jongin says.

Kyungsoo watches the guilt register on Mrs. Kim’s face. “Thank you for visiting, Mrs. Kim,” he says, preventing the conversation from taking an unpleasant course. “I’m sure your time here with your family will be worth the hours of flight.”

“You’re a sweetheart,” Mrs. Kim says. “Have you met Adam?”

Adam offers a handshake, which Kyungsoo gladly accepts. “Kyungsoo, right?” he starts. Kyungsoo nods. “So, you work with Jongin. I believe you’re a business partner.”

“No, actually, we’re in the same company.”

“Oh. Like Taemin. Tough business, huh? I hear investors are eyeing oil and gas production. A potentially strong market across the globe. It must be difficult to compete with the major industry.”

“That’s true, but Jongin’s company excels uniquely, and the country’s business experts recognize its contributions.”

“And I suppose the Americans haven’t.”

“Read the news, then,” Jongin jumps in. “Your criticism sounds ill-founded. Frankly, I would be offended if I cared about your opinion.”

“Jongin,” Mrs. Kim rebukes. “Please, let’s try to be civil. It’s not that serious.”

“That’s an assault on my efforts,” Jongin says, “and on Father’s efforts.”

Adam shrugs. “I wasn’t arguing, Jongin. Credit where credit is due. You’ve done a great job in developing your company policies, the wellness of your employees, and even the charitable foundation you’ve initiated. I commend you for your labors. They must be rewarding.”

“I don’t need your prematurely disproportionate assessment, Adam. I am my own boss.” He motions Kyungsoo to leave with him, ignoring Mrs. Kim’s protest.

As they settle at the bar, Jongin downs a shot of white rum, not even flinching at the aftertaste, and another one and another one. “Jongin,” Kyungsoo says, “slow down.”

“How can Mother be with that man?” Jongin gripes, huffing. “He’s a horrible person.” He shakes his head in frustration. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have witnessed that.”

“No, it’s okay.” Kyungsoo latches a hand over Jongin’s wrist. “It’s okay. Don’t be sorry.” He casts him a reassuring smile.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

“Listen, everyone!” Adam hollers later, drawing attention. “Thank you for coming tonight and joining me and Heejin.” He turns to Mrs. Kim. “I’m the happiest with you and I love you. I’ve been waiting for this opportunity.” He kneels to the ground. Mrs. Kim gapes at what is about to happen. In a fraction of a second, Adam pulls out a box. Something gleams as it catches the lights. “Will you marry me, Heejin?”

Mrs. Kim begins crying. “Yes,” she says before she scoops Adam up in her arms. “Yes, Adam, I will marry you.”

_Fuck._ Before Kyungsoo realizes it, Jongin has headed for the exit, and he’s too paralyzed, too shocked to move.

“For Christ’s sake, I prayed that this would not be the worst-case scenario,” Taemin says as he appears beside him out of the blue. “You better run after him,” he tells Kyungsoo. “He’ll not be fine for the next hours. Go now.”

Kyungsoo does, fast. He hears the enthusiastic applause of the visitors fade into the ebbing sound of the wind as the door behind him creaks shut. He strolls around the garden, bathing under the night sky. He walks toward the gazebo, where he sees Jongin leaning against the baluster. The three-piece suit, no matter how sharp and sleek, fails to hide Jongin's trepidation. Kyungsoo joins him in solitude, no speech prepared, no questions asked.

“I’m tired,” Jongin says.

“Do you want to go home?” Kyungsoo offers.

“If I can stay with you, then yes.”

The dead air stretches halfway through the ride. Kyungsoo gives Jongin the occasional glance. When the traffic light changes from green to red, he checks the time, and the clock continues with profound certainty of minutes passing. There is absolutely no escape from the pauses of every tragedy.

He eases the car up to the curb, then ushers Jongin inside the house. It’s hard to determine what is running on Jongin’s mind since he hasn’t spoken a word on the surprise engagement. They move into the living room, keys settled on the counter, jackets hung from the coat rack.

Now confined to the four corners of the area, Jongin turns to Kyungsoo in a swift motion, shoves him against the wall, and kisses him senseless.

Kyungsoo grunts into Jongin’s mouth as he grabs a fistful of Jongin’s hair, inviting him further, lips for lips, fingertips digging for muscles over bones. But something doesn't feel right about this—the obvious strain, the false gratification. Kyungsoo's judgment proves him right as Jongin withdraws from the physical contact and stumbles to the couch, panting.

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo says, “we don’t have to do this.”

Jongin swallows thickly. He rests his elbows across his knees and lays his forehead against his palms. “I'm sorry,” he says, with a trace of embarrassment. “I've behaved terribly. I’m a fucking mess.” He looks up at him. “Come here. Please?”

“You have me, okay?” Kyungsoo says as he sits beside Jongin. He wraps him in a full-body embrace, holding him tight, feeling the way Jongin relaxes bit by bit. “It’s all right.”

“That was stupid of me,” Jongin mutters, head buried in Kyungsoo’s chest.

“Yeah, but remember when I tried to clean the end of my razor with the tip of my finger?”

Jongin chuckles, shifting to face him. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Not necessarily, but I hope the hug's working.” Kyungsoo’s fingers start weaving through the roots of Jongin's hair. Jongin responds with a hum of approval. “You can talk to me. About what happened. Not like I’m forcing you. I mean, if that would help, of course.”

There is a pause. “It hasn't gotten easier and it doesn't get better either,” Jongin says. “I know I’m not in the position to be upset or anything. Mother’s happy, and that’s what she deserves the most. I just—” he trails off “—I didn’t expect she would marry another man.”

Kyungsoo nods. “What do you think of Adam?”

“Adam is an asshole. To me, at least. Maybe because I’ve never been welcoming. But he takes good care of Mother. I can see that. He connects with Taeyeon noona well and he has tried to get close to me.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way. I understand that nobody can replace your father, but to be fair, are you willing to give Adam a chance? If you recognize his sincerity, why not let him in your life?” Kyungsoo says. He feels Jongin’s arm wriggle, possibly becoming stiff from their unchanging position. “Are you okay?”

Jongin retreats, leaning on the cushion. He’s quiet for a long moment. “Just processing.”

“We’re terrified of change because it sounds grand. It’s uncomfortable, it’s dramatic, and it’s overwhelming. But change can be good. Change doesn’t always have to be bad.”

* * *

“It’s seven o’clock,” Jongin says, yawning. “And it’s Sunday. What’s keeping you busy at such an early hour? Let’s go back to bed.”

“Five minutes.”

“Can’t wait. Won’t wait.”

“Oh, Jesus, stop giving me that look,” Kyungsoo grumbles.

Jongin laughs, ruffling his hair. “You love to see it.”

“Shut up. I’ll make us some coffee after this.”

“Fine.” Jongin gazes around the room, then examines Kyungsoo’s desk, left to right, eyes winding through every object on the surface. “What is that? Do people still send postcards?”

“Yixing hyung does! It's from Changsha.”

“Can I see it?”

Kyungsoo's elbow knocks over the leather notebook on the side as he reaches for the postcard. He mumbles a quick apology for the clumsiness, stretching down to collect the mess.

“I've got it.” Jongin crouches to the floor and gathers the scattered items. What is supposed to be a polite gesture turns into mild curiosity when he stumbles upon a folded piece of paper, which he immediately identifies as a resignation letter, including a business card peeking underneath. The name, printed in white ink, reads: Byun Baekhyun.

There is a pall of silence that suspends over them. What sort of explanation can save Kyungsoo? He desperately wants to say something sensible, but “it's not what you think it is” sounds bullshit and “let me explain” has never worked in the history of confrontation. “Jongin,” he tries, lost for words.

Jongin faces him. He has that indiscriminating, serious look. “I don't understand,” he says in a cold, measured tone. “When did you meet him?”

“Months ago,” Kyungsoo tells him. “Conference in the university. He was the key speaker.” A pause. “He offered me a job, told me I could build a better career out of it. I was confused that day. I felt so lacking and harassed and unworthy.” He throws a hand around to encompass his house, or perhaps, his life. “I can't be with you like this.”

“Like what?”

“This isn't how a relationship works, Jongin. We both know we can't do this every day.”

“Oh, come on, we could have had a decent, mature conversation on that, but you chose a more convenient option. You allowed Baekhyun to talk you into leaving. You made a conscious decision for yourself alone.” Jongin rubs his brow. “Kyungsoo, I've been honest to you from the very start. I've told you everything. Why can't you do the same?”

“I'm sorry,” Kyungsoo says, defeated. “You're right, and I don't have any better excuse.” Jongin loses it at that and heads for the door, ready to walk out, but Kyungsoo grabs him by the arm. “Have you ever thought about the consequences of being with me?”

Jongin tilts a glare at him. “Like I said, you and I are probably in the worst of circumstances, but I make sure I do things right, not only for myself but for you, too,” he says. “When you considered Baekhyun's offer, you forgot that. You did exactly what could possibly disappoint me. So, don't ask me if I have ever thought about the consequences because I know what I'm doing, I know what I've gotten myself into.”

“And you know it’ll get worse.” Kyungsoo’s voice falters. 

“I do, but why does it matter?”

“You can’t ignore that, Jongin.”

“I’ve always been certain about you. But right now, I’m afraid I’ve just committed a mistake.”


	16. All the Surprises

_Drop. Drop. Drop._

The blur lingers for a few seconds. He squints at the computer screen behind a pair of smudge-free glasses. Ah, yes, a typical occurrence in the life of a legally blind person, except that the headache comes and goes after hours of gazing for long stretches at the digital screen. Seriously, though. When was the last time he visited an eye doctor? The problem with check-ups is they tend to be taxing. He hates the stress-inducing process, from saying a silent prayer of luck to reading the damned eye chart wrong by the third line to hearing the doctor’s verdict.

He has been trying to contact Chaerin since nine in the morning. No returns. No texts. The stream of emails from the different branches of the company is pretty much the only stable thing in the giant clusterfuck—thank you, Taemin—surrounding Kyungsoo. The elders have told him, “When it gets bad, it gets worse.” Proven and tested. He may have underestimated that.

As soon as the clock strikes five, he leaves the building, not looking back, particularly at the corner office on the same floor.

“Kyungsoo!”

He stops, struggling to identify the lady across the street, and there she is, Chaerin, dressed in a trench coat and knee-high boots, waving a hand at him with a picture-worthy grin that shortly fades in quick discernment. Kyungsoo saunters toward her. He’s stunned.

“Chaerin, what are you doing here?”

“You literally left me a dozen missed calls. I figured you got in trouble, and well, I wouldn’t let you spend a night by yourself.” She locks eyes with him. “How bad is it?”

He gives her a half-hearted shrug. “Not the worst yet, I guess.”

“Oh, Kyungsoo,” Chaerin cries. “Can I hug you?”

Kyungsoo feigns a groan. “Really? In the middle of the street?”

“Screw it.” Chaerin wraps him in an embrace. “You beautiful, beautiful man.”

They later find themselves at an upscale bar with a couple of patrons and a view of Han River. When champagne is served, Kyungsoo begins immediately. He narrates the crisis from start to finish, not mincing words, baring every detail to Chaerin’s interest.

“I've never met Baekhyun,” Chaerin says through the murmur of voices from the neighboring tables. “He keeps a tight-knit team of people to move around for him. Chairman Lee speaks with him in private. Luckily, my grandfather can't be swayed. It must have been a tough conversation, and Kyungsoo, I'm not surprised that Baekhyun's coming after you. But you're making a deal with the devil. You can do better than that.” She stares at him like he’s a complex sudoku puzzle. “Did you actually consider the job?”

Kyungsoo nods once. “I did, at least at first, and I wouldn’t deny that,” he says. “In life, you don’t get that kind of moment often. You’re told that if you do your job well or if you work hard enough, then your moment will come. But that doesn’t really happen, does it?”

Chaerin’s lips press into a grim line. “Fuck corporate.”

“I was sidetracked. I thought that was the moment. _My moment_. How could I refuse?”

“Yeah, for the record, if I were in your shoes, I would’ve taken the time to analyze Baekhyun’s bullshit of an act, too.”

“Which brought me to the realization that perhaps I could work for another company. So, I wrote a resignation letter, but that was it. Then came the masterclass at the university. Jongin and I had this strange, intimate conversation. He said he was very worried about me getting tangled in his mess. And I—I just fucking crumbled.”

“Jesus Christ. You’re so into him. And he’s so into you.”

“Chaerin,” Kyungsoo says with a due sense of exhaustion, “Baekhyun’s offer simply pushed me into wanting to leave the company. I was irresponsible, yes, but I was also desperate to be with Jongin and I could never do that if I chose to stay.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“No, because it wouldn't have made any difference. I hid the truth and I disappointed him. I was stupid.” He laughs despondently. “I mean, what was wrong with me? I could’ve said something to him or burnt that business card and resignation letter or declined Baekhyun's invitation.” He exhales. “I fucked up.”

“Well, yeah, you did.” She reaches for Kyungsoo's hand and squeezes it. “It'll be fine, but before that, you'll have to go through the shit you've brought to yourself, okay? I swear to god, Kyungsoo, I'm not letting one fight ruin your relationship. I'll fucking dye your hair bright blue if you don't fix your mess.”

“Please, not bright blue. I'll probably look like a constipated smurf.”

“You're such an idiot. And I love you.” Chaerin smiles at him. Kyungsoo doesn’t hesitate to return it. “How are you hanging in there?”

“Fine, but it's difficult at work. We haven't really talked in person for days and we mostly communicate via email. It's ridiculous. I deserve it, though. He tells me he wants to be alone for a while.”

“That sucks. You're in a waiting game. But I'm sure he'll cool down soon. Jongin doesn't seem as cruel as he appears to be.”

“Yeah, he's wonderful.”

“What's your plan?”

There is a long pause, then Kyungsoo says, “I'll do what I should've done.”

* * *

It takes him minutes to locate the cocktail lounge. He scans the area, and behind the column-shaped aquarium, he spots a man with a staid posture. It’s Baekhyun, seated at the booth, fiddling with a glass of Château Talbot. His mouth resembles that of a puppet, neither frowning nor grinning, and his hair is elegantly styled in a comma.

There is something about Baekhyun that makes him menacingly formidable. You look him in the eye and you catch the somber gleam of kindness. He doesn’t falter and marvels at how cunning he can be depending on who he’s dealing with or what he wants from the person in front of him. He’s a tactician.

“What can I do for you, Kyungsoo?” Baekhyun asks him.

_Oh_. He appreciates that—the straightforward, cut-to-the-chase question. It's a good start. No cold salutations. No inane pleasantries. Just Baekhyun being the businessman he is.

“Let me buy you a drink.” Baekhyun signals at the bartender with rolled-up sleeves filling orders being delivered by the servers. Smooth. He seems to be a regular customer. Definitely respected more than the others.

“I've thought about your offer and I'm here to give you an answer,” Kyungsoo says. He maintains a pleasant, non-threatening demeanor. The goal is to keep the conversation on track and not allow it to devolve into an argument of sorts.

Baekhyun visibly brightens. “Perfect. I suppose you've envisioned where you'd like to see your career in two to three years. Are you in?”

“I'll be honest with you, Baekhyun. It's an attractive position. But I can’t accept it.”

“Okay.” Baekhyun nods at him. “I’m curious. Why is that?”

“I'm still young. I'm still learning. I'm making progress at my own pace and I shouldn't be in a rush.”

“You're quite a dreamer, aren't you?” he challenges, but there is no heat in Baekhyun's voice.

“An assumption.”

“No, an observation.”

Kyungsoo tilts his chin upward in tentative defiance. “I will get there eventually.”

“Of course, you will,” Baekhyun says. “You do more than the job you're paid to do.”

“Excuse me?” Kyungsoo hears the ominous shift in Baekhyun’s tone.

“What can I say, you spend hours working together with Jongin and keeping him happy day in, day out. I'm not surprised that you've developed an affectionate bond over time.” Baekhyun finishes the Château Talbot, then beckons the server to pour him another glass. “Junmyeon told me everything.”

“Everything?”

“You weren't exactly a tough nut to crack in front of Junmyeon. You trusted him the second you met him at that bar, even after Jongin had warned you about him. You got hooked and captivated, and what did Junmyeon do? He stabbed you in the back. He pulled the rug beneath your feet only to watch you tumble to the ground.”

Kyungsoo freezes, stone-faced. His palms are cold and his chest is pounding. “You're lying.”

Baekhyun casts him a tight smile that doesn't reach the eyes. “Lying is for amateurs. What you see with me is what you get.” It's almost unsettling how Baekhyun relaxes on the seat. “Go ask him yourself. You have the right to be mad.”

“Do you really think you can fool me?” Kyungsoo snaps, fist clenched on the table. His cool is beginning to ebb.

“Fool you?” Baekhyun chuckles, shaking his head. “Oh, no, no, no, Kyungsoo. That's your problem. You cannot handle the truth. You're blinded by the false image you have of people. We both know Junmyeon and Jongin's past. It’s not shocking news. That's just vendetta at its work.” He gazes back at him. Kyungsoo is fuming. “Look, let's seal the deal. I'll send your regards to Junmyeon and you'll send mine to Jongin. How about that?”

Kyungsoo's rage churns inside of him. “Screw you,” he says. “You’re the worst.”

“I'll tell you what, Kyungsoo. You make decisions that aren't good for you. You'll never survive the industry with that softness in your heart.” Baekhyun rises, staring down at him. “You're right. You're still young. You're still learning. But your progress? Let's be real; you're not in control of that. Jongin is.”

After an hour of strolling around the city, Kyungsoo dials Junmyeon's number, but the initial attempt directs him straight to voicemail. Great. Of course, he has been screened!

He perches on a nearby bench with a jittering foot. The wintry weather seeps through the layers of clothing that aren't enough to engulf him in a mix of warmth and comfort like the arms he misses around him. He presses a fist to the lips and turns to the childhood habit of nail-biting.

It sinks in him fast that he wonders if Jongin has ever felt that smashing pain in the chest. He vacillates between disbelief and anger. Then there is fear.

_You'll be fine_ , he thinks. _You've done what's right and you shouldn't be afraid_. He draws in another calming breath.

Kyungsoo's phone rings, and at the top of the screen, Taemin's name flashes. “Hello?” he greets.

“Hi, Kyungsoo,” Taemin says, “I hope I'm not interrupting your dinner, but plans have changed. Can you do me a favor and change the bookings you've made in Bangkok? And please inform Mr. Bencharongkul that I'll be meeting him to discuss the consortium.”

“Yeah, sure. I'll take care of it. Um, is everything okay?” he asks, not receiving an immediate response. “I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that.”

Taemin sighs. “Jongin will be back Monday. Don't worry too much. It's just not a good time for him.” There is a beat of silence. “Listen, I understand you and I understand him. I don't have to side with either of you. No matter what happens, I'm here if you need me.”

“Oh, god, that's reassuring.” Kyungsoo chuckles softly. “Thank you, Taemin. Sincerely.”

“Don't mention it. If you've got issues in the headquarters, you can always call me.”

* * *

He's early for today's class, or has he been sleeping less? As if having at least five obligations a day helps. Escapism is both powerful and meek, but the world doesn't stop with or without it. There are certain situations around him that he cannot run from. Far behind the tall buildings, the clock ticks, the sun sets, and the moon rises. They all keep moving.

From the other end of the corridor, he spots Chanyeol trudging toward him. Perhaps the morning isn't as empty as it feels. So, he watches him with a hopeful gaze. It has been months, and now that Chanyeol is ready for a conversation, Kyungsoo cannot help but break into a smile. “Chanyeol, hi, how are you?” he says, failing to conceal his enthusiasm.

“Is it you?” Chanyeol asks with an air of impatience. He inches closer and shoves a newspaper on Kyungsoo’s chest.

Kyungsoo opens the newspaper. The headline reads: _famed businessman Kim Jongin found dating an employee._ Kyungsoo’s throat tightens.

“Why am I not even surprised?” Chanyeol says. He paces back and forth, then glowers at him. “You know what? I've been thinking about you. I miss you around and I miss being your friend. Is this the reason why you've become distant and unavailable the past couple months?” The question remains unanswered. He huffs. “I shouldn't fucking care about you. It's your life. You ruin it in a way you can't fix half of the shit you've done.”

“I have to go,” Kyungsoo says, stoic. His mind is stuck in his previous conversation with Baekhyun. _How could he?_

Chanyeol catches him by the wrist. “Are you throwing everything away because you actually believe you've found someone?”

Kyungsoo retreats from him. “I'm not throwing everything away, Chanyeol,” he says firmly. “You do realize you've never tried to understand me, don't you? Why can't you do that for one second? One fucking second!” he shouts. Chanyeol is noticeably startled by the reaction. “I'm angry. I'm angry because you're all trying to crucify Jongin because of me.” He flaps his hands in the air and lets them drop on his sides. “I can't just stand here.”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Chanyeol sneers. “What makes you think he feels the same about you? About someone like you?”

“Someone like me?”

“You've barely made it halfway through your twenties, Kyungsoo. You're young and vulnerable. Oh, hold on, is there a promotion waiting for you? Is that why you're acting aggressively? God! You're a disgrace.”

“Are you done?”

“I'm glad you and I have stopped talking,” Chanyeol says. “I don't want to be associated with you ever again.” He marches past him.

Kyungsoo sprints down the street, hails a cab, and climbs in the backseat. His phone has been beeping for the past minutes and his eyes feel hot and heavy. When he reaches the destination, he gathers enough composure to speak with the lady at the front desk, then walks past the crowd until he gets to the right floor.

A vest-clad man follows him. “Excuse me, sir, can I help you?”

Kyungsoo ignores him.

“Sir, you can't go in there!”

_Fuck it_. He bursts inside the office and locks the door shut. Without a shadow of doubt, he charges toward Baekhyun, yanks him by the collar, and punches him in the face.

Baekhyun falls to the floor, nose covered with smears of red. He winces, but the sinister smile across his lips lingers. He looks up at Kyungsoo. “You have quite an unusual way of greeting me, Kyungsoo,” he says. “Have you changed your mind about the offer?”

“Why did you tell the press?”

“You were fortunate because I specifically asked them to exclude your name. You should be thanking me. You owe me one. Aren't you grateful that you'll likely not suffer the consequences you've been dreading? Leave it to Jongin. That is if he's brave enough to explain the situation to the board.”

“You're pathetic.”

“Oh, tell me about it. I've heard worse.” Baekhyun stands with a soft grunt, then spits blood on the floor. He sends him a sidelong glance. “You're here because you feel helpless and the only thing you can do is take your anger out on me.” He plops on the chair in the sitting area. “I don't appreciate the silence between us. Why don't you sit? Humor me.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“I don't have a grand speech for you, and if you're planning on attacking me, go ahead. Do it. Do it until you feel better. You can waste your breath screaming at me or calling me names, but the word is out. Sooner or later, you will realize that you and I, we're not that different. We may not be on the same page, but your actions have caused the same result in Jongin's life. It's your fault that he's being condemned. It's your fault that he's about to lose every single thing he values. I’m just saving you the trouble.”

“You’re no hero. You can't even admit that you're the reason why Jongin suffered in business school. You manipulated Junmyeon and you took advantage of him. Baekhyun, it's you. Look in the mirror. Look at yourself. You're a fraud.”

“Oh, please, that's an old, boring story.”

“Do you want to know the truth?” Kyungsoo says as he glares down at him. “You work ten times harder than Jongin and you still fail and fail and fail. You've never had a single person validate your efforts, and it makes you bitter.”

Baekhyun bolts upright and walks over to him with a peeved expression. “An assumption.”

“No, an observation,” Kyungsoo gripes. “You revel in plotting against your enemy because you can't beat him in a job that you're supposedly good at, a job you've dedicated your whole life to.”

“You have no idea how much I've done, Kyungsoo. You speak like you’ve completely seen what I’m capable of.”

“You’re capable of nothing. Despite your attempts to sabotage Jongin's career, you're still the b-player in the game. Do you want to know why? It's because you compare yourself to him that it blinds you of your reality. You crave more, and when you don't get it, you blame him for your shortcomings and you blame the world for not doing you a favor.”

“That's not—”

“Shut your mouth, I'm talking,” Kyungsoo exclaims, pointing a finger at him. Baekhyun swallows, furious and insulted. “I'm not sorry for you. I'm sorry for all the people around you. Like Junmyeon. They deserve better. You may have succeeded with that stupid fucking article, but I guarantee you, Baekhyun, this will only be one of your temporary victories.”

Kyungsoo storms out of the room. He strides across the corridor. Baekhyun’s assistant rushes after him but surrenders as the elevator closes.

One step. Two steps. And hundreds more before he finds himself on Ryeowook's doorstep. He rings the bell with a shaky hand.

“Kyungsoo?” Ryeowook says as he appears in front of him. “Are you okay?”

“No.” Kyungsoo crashes into Ryeowook’s arms. “I’m not okay.” He sniffs. Ryeowook begins soothing and rubbing him on the back.

“I knew Junmyeon didn’t call me for no reason.”

“What?” Kyungsoo faces him. “He did? When?”

“Earlier. He said he was worried about you.”

* * *

> _Author's Note: Dropping by to thank each and every one of you. Please know I appreciate your comments and support!_


	17. Making Amends

Ryeowook walks over to the kitchen island with a pair of steaming mugs and positions them carefully on wooden coasters. He studies Kyungsoo. There is the classic nail-biting, then there are the feet that shift and move for no apparent reason. “You can relax,” Ryeowook says softly. “I don’t judge the choices you’ve made.”

“How come you’re not mad at me?” Kyungsoo asks him. They have had plenty of tension-filled conversations in the past years, mostly about coping with the emotional stress and trauma of losing Kyungsoo’s entire family, occasionally about Kyungsoo’s fears, insecurities, and shortcomings. But today is completely different. Kyungsoo’s guilt remains as Ryeowook listens to him intently, perhaps weighing in on the positives and the negatives, but still not quite reacting enough on the subject. No excessive probing. No tucked-away disappointment.

“Do you want me to be mad at you?” Ryeowook retorts.

“No. I should’ve told you, though.”

“Kyungsoo, you’re not obligated to do that. Listen, I’m your best friend, yeah, but it doesn’t mean you owe me every detail of your life. Honestly, I feel more sad than angry. The thought that you’ve been dealing with tough situations by yourself hurts me. I could’ve done something.” Ryeowook falls silent for a while. “I know I don’t come close to your late older brother, but I’m happy to try and be a good one.”

There is a wave of relief coursing through him. “You’re a good one,” Kyungsoo says. “Always have and always will.”

“So, did you sign a non-disclosure agreement?” Ryeowook quips.

“Oh, god.” Kyungsoo snorts. “Clearly, I didn’t. But what was I supposed to say? ‘Oh, surprise, I went on a date with him and fell straight to a hellhole, which was Kim Jongin’s world, and he told me I fascinated him and I couldn’t pretend I felt nothing.’ Really.” He pauses. The words haven’t left him. The kisses and the touches, even, are still there, scattered across the cold, twisted bedsheets, etched into the soft skin that has been craving the warmth of gone-too-soon moments. Kyungsoo sighs despondently. “He’s wonderful,” he says, nodding. “Very.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he is.” Ryeowook smiles at him. “You had that strange glow on your face that night he called you at the art gallery. I’d give you a couple of points for trying to hide it from me, but you, young man, failed at that actually.” He takes a sip of hot chocolate. “Too bad, you could commit murder and leave no forensic evidence behind, and I would figure it was you who did it.” The joke earns him a brief, throaty chuckle from Kyungsoo. “I’m glad you’re slowly loosening up. It must be the drink.”

“The drink’s delicious. Thank you.” Kyungsoo’s phone beeps for the hundredth time.

Ryeowook glances at Kyungsoo’s phone. “Are you not going to at least check your messages?”

“Not until I’m ready.”

“You can stay here tonight if that helps. I’ll cook you a five-star dinner, that’s a promise.”

“Wait. Junmyeon doesn’t know your address, does he?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll deal with him.”

“Jesus, is he getting the full-speed double power punch?” Kyungsoo says, and Ryeowook simpers. “For the record, Johnny’s nose bled back in college. Harsh of you, hyung.”

“He was a dick to you!”

“A bit true.”

“Yeah, he deserved the full-speed double power punch. No doubt.”

“Poor Johnny.” Kyungsoo rises from the seat. “I think I can use a nap. Mind if I crash on your couch?”

“Oh, please, mark your territory. The space is yours, Kyungsoo. Get your ass there. Let me just grab a blanket for you.” Ryeowook heads for the other room.

Kyungsoo lies supine on the couch, staring at the shadows of furniture reflected through the television screen, slipping into quiet introspection. It’s crazy how fast the world can go from bad to absolute, garbage shit. There is nothing else he can do. The smartasses have said, “Embrace the suckage.” And he heeds that as he hopes for a less catastrophic Monday morning. He has imagined the worst-case scenario: the board members grilling him for information while formulating measures deemed suitable to save the company’s demise. What follows the deliberation nags the back of Kyungsoo’s mind, screaming for attention, poking him hard that it bruises.

So, he closes his eyes. He feels a faux fur blanket covering him from neck to toe and a hand tenderly caressing him on the temple. Kyungsoo stops thinking. Perhaps that is all he needs: a pause.

* * *

At the headquarters, Kyungsoo crosses the lobby with strides that immediately lead him to the elevator hall. He does hear a familiar voice near the entrance but he ignores it and bursts into the lift, hyper-aware of the distance between him and the others. Hell, he must have consumed too much caffeine because now he feels dizzy and thirsty.

When he reaches the floor, he debates whether or not to drop by the corner office that welcomes him from the opposite end of the corridor.

“Mr. Do?”

Perfect timing. He turns around. A young man greets him with a bow. “Hi,” he says. “Yes, how can I help you?”

“My name is Mark Lee. I work for Mr. Sung.”

Ah, of course, here comes the almighty Sung Hoon, the toughest son of a bitch in the meeting room and Jongin’s worst critic. It’s not even a fucking surprise that he has sent a subordinate to bring Kyungsoo for a little talk.

Kyungsoo can pretty much vision-board what’s coming ahead of him, and it’s ugly.

“Mr. Sung would like to speak with you. Please follow me.”

After a while, Mark ushers him inside Hoon’s office. It’s spacious, with framed photographs and certificates lining the bookshelves, an abstract painting on the wall, and vintage furniture. The rosewood sideboard looks sturdy and is probably older than Kyungsoo.

“Have a seat, Mr. Do,” Hoon says. “I must confess, I’ve never had a more disastrous morning. I’m very disappointed that it concerns you and the man who’s expected to run the business with a clear conscience and an honest motivation.”

“Mr. Sung—”

“That’s not a question,” Hoon interrupts him. “I take pride in keeping the company on top. I’ve been here for over a decade, and you listen to me carefully, I do my job because it’s my passion. I don’t do it to fool around and fuck my employee. This place?” He taps a finger against the tabletop to drive a point home. “This place is not yours, nor Jongin’s to tamper with. This place belongs to the only Mr. Kim I respect. And that is Jongin’s father.” He casts him a fevered stare. “Who do you think you are?”

Kyungsoo’s chest tightens like it’s being crushed, hammered, punctured all at once. He’s on the edge of tears, but he fights it. _God._ Why can’t management simply end him? It’s much easier—and less painful.

“What if I gave you another chance, Mr. Do? You could say it wasn’t true—a rumor fabricated by the press—and that might change my mind about you.”

“How did the news read to you, Mr. Sung?”

Hoon’s expression grows slack, almost impenetrable. “I enjoyed it,” he says. “Did Jongin force you into the relationship? Did you sleep with him because you had your own selfish intention? Did he promise you a promotion? A raise, perhaps?”

“No, he did not!” Kyungsoo yells.

Hoon doesn’t flinch at the sharpness of the tone. Instead, he leans back on his chair, playing with a pen between his fingers. “Okay.” He nods. “You do realize you’re making a mistake, don’t you? You can redeem yourself, Mr. Do, but you choose not to.”

“Fire me.” Kyungsoo’s jaw clenches. He maintains eye contact.

“What did you say?”

“I said, fire me.”

“You’re out of your goddamn mind. Lucky you, that’s not the plan. You should be grateful to Taemin for fighting the board to save your career. Unlucky him, he doesn’t have a choice now but to recognize me as interim CEO.” Hoon stands up, trudging toward the rosewood sideboard to touch the plaques with the name Sung Hoon engraved on them. “On one condition, though, I’m not allowed to terminate you.” He faces Kyungsoo after a beat. “You see, I don’t want you to work for me. Neither do you. So, I’m asking you, Mr. Do, file your resignation and leave the company for good.”

“And Jongin?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Can’t you reconsider your decision on him?”

Hoon rolls his eyes. “Mr. Do, I believe you’re not in the position to say that. I’m just doing what’s best, not for you, not for Jongin, but for the company.”

“And terminating him is your best option? How is that fair to him?”

“Reality isn’t fair. You don’t actually expect the board members to trust him after the furor, do you?”

“I—I understand.”

“Good. If you don't have other questions, you may go.”

Kyungsoo returns to his office. He writes a resignation letter, folds the paper gingerly, and seals it in an envelope. He starts clearing the desk, rifling through the items in the drawers before turning to the shelves.

The thick book won’t fit in the box, and after multiple attempts, Kyungsoo’s frustration manifests. He hauls it to the floor, breathing heavily, his fists clenched.

“Do you need help?” Minseok asks, wide-eyed, standing at the door. He glances at the book across him, then advances into the room. “I’m sorry, Kyungsoo. I could’ve tried harder. I told you I’d protect you but I failed.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, hyung,” Kyungsoo says. “It’s not your fault that I am where I am.” He forces a smile. “How’s Jongin?”

For a few seconds, Minseok purses his lips together. “He’s hanging quite well. But Taeyeon and Taemin have been aggressive with the board. They’re crazy worried about you.” He looks over at Kyungsoo, catching a hint of sadness. “Don’t blame yourself for it, okay?”

“I’m trying,” Kyungsoo mumbles.

Minseok pulls him into a bone-crushingly tight embrace. “Oh, I know you are.” He begins stroking the back of Kyungsoo’s head. “You’re like the child I never had.”

“You wouldn't be proud of what I did, nonetheless.”

“Said who? I wouldn't change a thing about you, Kyungsoo. You’re clever, kind-hearted, and bold. I can see why Jongin likes you.”

“He does?”

“Oh, you! Of course, that kid does!” Minseok chuckles. “Give it time. Only if you’re willing to wait. What do you think?”

“I think I am.”

* * *

The cab stops right in front of the house. Kyungsoo hands the driver a wad of bills, climbs out of the vehicle, and collects the box from the backseat. He pushes the door shut, and as he marches forward, struggling with the weight of the items, he spots Junmyeon. Kyungsoo continues, slowly, reluctantly, then drops the box to the ground.

“What are you doing here?” he asks Junmyeon.

Junmyeon approaches him. “Can I talk to you?”

“About what? About how you screwed me over?”

“No, please. Listen to me.”

“I trusted you.”

“Yes, you did, and I took you for granted.” Junmyeon’s lips quiver. “I made a mistake, Kyungsoo. When I told Baekhyun about you, I thought he’d understand and sympathize with me. I had been a fool for believing in him, believing that he wanted the best for me, and it took me years to realize he used me against Jongin, and now, against you.” He inches closer. “I regret that it has to be you on the receiving end of the situation. I really, really do. I’m sorry. You’re important to me. I would’ve done it differently if I knew better.”

“The problem is, Junmyeon, I’m not even sure if you’re telling me the truth or not.”

“I can’t blame you for that. But it’s worth trying, isn’t it? Like I said, I wish I met you somewhere less complicated.”

“What about the article?”

“Baekhyun personally sent me a copy at home that morning. We argued on the phone, but I couldn’t do a thing to make it stop. People were reading it.” Junmyeon closes his eyes as if processing and remembering. “When I saw you and Jongin together, I did get hurt. That, I admit. But I’d never put that information out there to hurt you back. And I’m sorry it happened because of me. I shouldn’t have told Baekhyun about how I felt.”

There is a long pause. “I really want to punch you in the face, but you’re crying and I kind of feel horrible that you are.”

Junmyeon cracks a laugh. He wipes his nose with his knuckles. “A punch doesn’t quite cut it, I suppose,” he says. “How are you holding up?”

“Lovely of you to ask, thank you,” Kyungsoo says. “No promotion and no raise for me since I’ve left the company and the boss who has allegedly promised me a major career boost. Sucks to be me.” He shrugs.

“Great. I’m amazed you still have an iota of sarcasm in you.”

“Oh, shut up. How long have you been here, anyway?”

“Not too long.” Junmyeon points at the box. “I can help you with that.”

Kyungsoo glances at the box. “Sure, that's one of the good things you can do to pay for your sins, asshole.”

Junmyeon looks like he’s going to cry again. He lifts the box from its place and follows Kyungsoo inside the house. He sets it down on the counter. “What else?”

“I’ve been busy. Can you wash the clothes in the hamper? I’ll show you how it works.”

“Um, yeah, okay.”

“Junmyeon, I’m kidding. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m basically convinced you want me to suffer.”

“No, not really, but do you still wanna be friends with an unemployed emotional train wreck?”

“It's not like you've committed an unimaginable crime to deserve that much hate,” Junmyeon says. Kyungsoo stays quiet. “I have an idea. How about we order some food? And just chill?”

“Chill? Jesus Christ. I can't just chill. You owe me a story.”

“Here we go.”

“This is me being nice to you.” Kyungsoo huffs at him. “I don’t think you’ve ever told me why Baekhyun hates Jongin so much. I’m puzzled. Make me understand him and I’ll consider not breaking his elbows.”

“I should be thanking you for sparing mine.”

“Too early to say that.”

Junmyeon begins with Baekhyun’s father, the root cause of Baekhyun’s lust for power. The old man, reeking of greed and mendacity, seems to have put Baekhyun under the constant pressure of competing with the top players in the industry.

Back then, the Byuns were incredibly prominent people. Baekhyun’s father was a business genius, his mother headed an academic institution, and his ancestors had connections across the country. The young Baekhyun grew up in an environment where success defined a person’s worth, status, and legacy. With his father by his side, he constantly topped his classes. He garnered awards from different organizations, and although he was a work in progress, he had help coming left and right from his parents’ network. But that changed in college.

When Baekhyun met Jongin, he adored him. He once invited him to a family dinner with the Byuns, where he learned that Jongin was the son of his father’s archnemesis. Baekhyun avoided Jongin for a week. He told Junmyeon, “Father says I shouldn’t hang out with Jongin.” And another trigger hit him: “Father says Jongin is better than me and that I’m an embarrassment.”

The cycle continued: Baekhyun appearing and disappearing. Junmyeon could remember where exactly Baekhyun turned his back on Jongin. It was that day Jongin was voted to lead the class for a university-wide event. “I’d love it if you guys could help me,” Jongin told Baekhyun and Junmyeon. And before Junmyeon could even answer eagerly, Baekhyun said, “If you’re good enough to earn majority of the votes, then you obviously don’t need help. Why don’t you prove yourself, Jongin? Besides, that’s what you’ve been doing, right?”

“And the rest is history,” Junmyeon says with a sigh.

Kyungsoo blinks as he munches on squid chips. “Mr. Byun sounds like an abusive, self-centered asshole. Fuck him.”

“I’d rather not.”

“No, seriously. He groomed Baekhyun into a version of him. I feel sick.”

“I blindly accepted that Baekhyun was changing and he did everything to fulfill Mr. Byun’s wishes.” Junmyeon muses. “I need a clean start. It’s best for me to leave the company.”

“What?” Kyungsoo’s eyebrows furrow.

“I want to visit my parents and spend time with them. And maybe I’ll figure something out.”

“Does Baekhyun have an idea that you’re planning to leave?”

“Bet he does. His team works pretty fast. Give them a day or two and they’ll find someone to replace me.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“We’re all dispensable. That shouldn’t surprise you. Corporate does it like no other.”

A fact. Kyungsoo is rendered speechless.

“How are you and Jongin?” Junmyeon asks.

“It’s complicated,” Kyungsoo says. “He hates me, that’s for sure.”

“That’s not true, Kyungsoo. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He likes you a lot.” Junmyeon’s mouth presses into a line as he nods at the statement. “Probably loves you, even.”

Kyungsoo laughs it off. “You’re shitting me.”

“You know I’m not.” Junmyeon rises to his feet and grabs his jacket from the rack. He pats Kyungsoo’s back. “It’s getting late. You should rest.”

Kyungsoo walks Junmyeon to the door. There is another pause, then he initiates a quick hug. “You’re still an asshole, okay?” he says. He feels Junmyeon nodding over his shoulder. “You’ll keep in touch, right?”

“Of course, I will.” Junmyeon faces him. For a moment, he stares at Kyungsoo, smiling warmly. “Thank you for not breaking my elbows. I’ll be better. I’ll do better. I promise.”

When Kyungsoo shuts the door, he gazes around at the now-empty room. He grabs a bottle of beer from the fridge, pops the can open, and drinks it in a few big gulps. He fishes his phone out of his pocket. No new messages. No missed calls. At least they have quit bombarding him with questions. People have respectfully agreed to give him enough space for himself. For contemplation, perhaps. This attempt does nothing but put him in a worse state.

Another bottle and another bottle and another bottle. He paces back and forth in the kitchen, and after rounds and rounds of self-flagellation, he decides to send Jongin a voicemail.

“Jongin,” he says, “I’m sorry.” He hesitates, uncertain of what needs to be explained, what needs to be spoken. “I just—I miss you. I miss your arms around me. I miss your laugh and your smile and your stupid frown when you’re pissed.” He chokes out a chuckle.

Silence.

“I feel pathetic for saying this over a fucking voicemail, but I’m so scared and I—I can’t stop thinking about you. How are you, Jongin? I just—I want to be sure you’re okay because you deserve to be happy. You really do. I’m so sorry.”

He clicks the end button.

Minutes pass, and Kyungsoo’s phone beeps. He hurries and checks the notification only to find a text message, not from Jongin, but from Taeyeon. It reads: “Hi, Kyungsoo. It’s Taeyeon. Let’s meet tomorrow. At Tavolo’s. 11AM.”


	18. When Time Tells

Silence rises to the surface quick enough for him to break it with a mumbled apology—the words roll off the tongue as though they have been spoken and ignored many times before. “You shouldn’t be,” Taeyeon says. For a lady dealing with a corporate crisis, she looks composed. She exudes an exceptionally gracious demeanor, which Kyungsoo admires. “I’m here because I care about you,” she adds. “I understand how tough it is for you.”

“It’s nothing compared to what Jongin is going through,” Kyungsoo says. Something inside him shatters. He can only imagine the devastation Jongin must be feeling. “I feel ashamed.” His voice becomes brittle. “I really am.”

Taeyeon reaches for Kyungsoo’s hand and shakes her head. “I like you, Kyungsoo. You’ve probably never thought of me as the overprotective sister, but I am. I think you’re perfect for Jongin. You inspire him. In fact, you make him stupid happy. Oh, that man, he has grown so much.” She sighs with a hint of a smile. “Yes, it’s bad for the company and it’ll take months—years, even—to mend the damage. Fuck its eyes. Honestly, we’ve had it worse. We will survive. Taemin and I? We’re built differently. We can do it.”

Kyungsoo half-agrees, half-doubts. Seriously, though, there are professionals assigned and paid to save organizations from falling to pieces. They have a crisis management team, operations and business recovery, public relations, legal, marketing and corporate communications, and so forth. The list is endless. 

“What’s between you and Jongin is harder to fix,” Taeyeon continues. “I’ve been told by a college professor that human emotions are like a complex mathematics equation, but in every mathematics equation, there’s a corresponding formula. I might have solved yours.”

“I don’t quite follow.”

“Eric is outside.”

“Eric?”

“Yes. He’ll drive you to where Jongin is.”

“Ms. Kim,” Kyungsoo says, “I’m almost a hundred percent certain that he doesn’t want to see me.” How the hell is he supposed to face Jongin? There is the unreturned voicemail, then there is also the crippling fear of being blamed for everything. Kyungsoo’s courage dwindles to zero.

“Kyungsoo, please, don’t squander your chance. Talk to him.”

“What if I fail?”

“The opposite of success is not failure, but fear, right? I stumbled upon the note you had crammed between the pages of your organizer.”

Kyungsoo stares down at his barely touched meal. “I just—I’m scared.”

“I know.” Taeyeon’s expression softens. “But try. I promise if it doesn’t work, I’ll stop bothering you and let you be.”

Kyungsoo contemplates. All the possibilities. All the regrets. All the mistakes. Despite the hesitation, he proceeds, with the hope that perhaps it's indeed not too late for him.

He climbs into the backseat as a silver Maserati stops by the curb. Eric greets him with a nod and doesn't speak a word throughout the ride. Kyungsoo's hands remain clasped together.

The place seems familiar, and before Eric can even park the vehicle, Kyungsoo remembers the path leading to the yacht. Eric holds the car door open for him to step out. “Thank you, Eric,” Kyungsoo says, glancing around. “How long has he been staying in the yacht?” he asks. Eric doesn’t respond as instantly. “Um, I’m sorry. Are you not allowed to answer that?”

“Since yesterday,” Eric says curtly. There is a pause. “It’ll take you minutes of walking to reach the station from here. Feel free to contact me if you need someone to drive you home.”

Kyungsoo nods. 

When he approaches the entrance, Mina welcomes him, equally surprised and delighted. “Mr. Do, hello to you! Are you here to visit Mr. Kim?” She grins and trudges toward the bar.

“Yes, where is he?”

“He’s on the upper deck. Can I get you a drink?”

“That’s very nice of you, Mina, but no, thank you. I’m fine.” Kyungsoo gives her a small smile. “I’ll see you around in a bit, okay?”

On the upper deck, he steps back, ready to flee. He can hear the hull slicing through the water and the wind rustling the flags at the top of the boat. At a glance, the saloon seems to be empty, but it doesn’t take him a minute to spot Jongin behind the bar, drinking wine, dressed in a button-down cardigan. Kyungsoo’s stomach clenches. Quietly, nervously, he moves toward him. Before he can even set another foot closer, Jongin turns around.

“You didn’t return my voicemail,” Kyungsoo says, berating himself for the nonsensical introduction. “I had to look for you.”

Jongin empties the glass of wine. “What voicemail?”

“I sent you a voicemail.”

“You didn’t.”

Kyungsoo frowns a little. “I did.” He wasn’t that drunk last night to forget that he actually recorded a laughable, pathetic-sounding voicemail for Jongin. In fact, he could picture the exact moment he huddled in the kitchen corner with a clear mind.

“Are you here to fight me over that?” Jongin asks impatiently.

“No.” Kyungsoo’s voice loses its power. “I’m sorry.” There comes the apology that he may or may not have repeated in his head night after night. He struggles to reason, but as he looks him in the eye, Kyungsoo makes no attempt to wipe loose his tears away. “I don’t want to let you go, Jongin.”

“Why?”

“Because you make me happy,” he says, and Jongin gazes at him as though urging him to continue, as though waiting for more. “And maybe I love you.”

“Maybe?”

“I love you,” Kyungsoo says, louder. “I do love you.”

Jongin huffs inwardly and doesn't answer for a while. “You need to leave.”

“What?” Kyungsoo’s brows pull together, down.

“You heard me, Kyungsoo.” Jongin retreats from him.

“No, wait.” He leans forward and covers Jongin in a bone-crushing embrace. “Don’t do this.” The muscles of Kyungsoo’s chin tremble against Jongin’s chest like that of a child. “Jongin, please, I’ve lost enough people. I can’t lose you, too.” He stifles a sob. “Please,” he tries again. Kyungsoo’s grip travels to the side of Jongin’s neck as he faces him. “You and I had the chance, and I blew it. But now, I’m here. I can be the right person for you.”

Jongin shakes his head. He cups Kyungsoo’s cheeks with both hands and kisses him softly on the lips, once, twice. “Go,” he says, but Kyungsoo doesn’t move. “Trust me, you’ll be fine without me, and I’ll be fine without you.”

“That’s not true,” Kyungsoo manages. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for Kyungsoo, okay?”

* * *

“Ah, Kyungsoo?” Jungsuk says behind him. “Do you have a minute?”

Kyungsoo marches back into the room. “Is there any problem, Professor Jo?” he asks, although he can very much guess where the conversation is going.

Jungsuk sits on the swivel chair. “I’m afraid there is.” He pauses to skim through a document. “I understand that there are private matters you cannot discuss with me and I genuinely hope everything’s all right.” He flashes him a polite smile. “You’re a strong writer, Kyungsoo, and your quest for knowledge is endearing. I’ve seen how you present your ideas. They’re always full of potential.”

“But?” Kyungsoo says, gauging Jungsuk’s expression. “There must be a but.”

“Yes.” Jungsuk’s mouth flatlines. “I don’t doubt your capabilities and never have. But I think you need to pay more attention to your manuscript. Every argument in your revision should be consistent, should be able to hold water.” He hands Kyungsoo a folder. “Read it again. Try to identify your weak points and improve them. I’m available Wednesday morning if you’d like to see me for consultation.”

“Thank you, Professor Jo.”

“Sure. Just don’t be a stranger, okay? I’ll be happy to help.”

The chatters from the adjacent building cease as he ambles toward the main gate. Nothing is comforting about the campus except for its largeness—it makes him wonder how many dreams have been built in there.

As he nears the exit, he catches sight of Chanyeol, seemingly waiting for somebody. Kyungsoo’s immediate response is to avoid him. What he doesn’t expect is Chanyeol running after him and telling him not to go.

“What do you want?” Kyungsoo asks.

“I want to…” Chanyeol trails off. “I want to apologize.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“For what?”

“For being a dick,” Chanyeol says with a weak shrug. “For hurting your feelings and judging you without trying to understand how the situation must have been ddifficult for you. I’m sorry, Kyungsoo. I know I should be a better friend. I know I tend to be jealous and immature and exhausting. I’ll work on myself, I promise that, not only to you, but also to Jongdae and to the rest of the people I’ve wronged.”

“No more unnecessary dissing?”

“No more unnecessary dissing.”

Kyungsoo nods. “So, what happened? Why the sudden apology?”

“Um, well, Jinah dumped me. That would be one of the reasons. Also, I got a call from Jongdae. And most importantly, I fucked up. I wouldn’t lie. I was insensitive.”

“Hi!” Jongdae jumped out of nowhere. “Enough of the drama,” he says. “Look at you, Kyungsoo.” He ruffles Kyungsoo’s hair. Kyungsoo studies him in utter confusion. “I’ve missed you, man.”

“What are you doing here?” Kyungsoo asks. “I mean, I’ve missed you, too, but what the hell is going on, Jongdae?”

“Dinner is on me.”

“Care to explain this weird episode of my life?”

“I’ll be honored.”

The walk to the restaurant a few blocks from the university is quiet. Jongdae occasionally initiates the conversation, talking about his job as a news reporter, congratulating Chanyeol on his recent promotion, remembering Professor Jo’s top-notch lectures.

Once seated at a table, a server takes their order. Chanyeol adds three bottles of soju for the little evening soiree. Kyungsoo looks between them dubiously.

“I’m glad you sorted your issues out earlier,” Jongdae says. “Chanyeol, you were shit. In fact, I wouldn’t be mad if Kyungsoo didn’t forgive you.”

“Shut up, don’t give him an idea,” Chanyeol jests, earning a grin from Kyungsoo.

“You guys planned on this, didn’t you?” Kyungsoo supposes.

“Uh, not really.” Jongdae scratches his temple. “You sent me a voicemail for Kim Jongin by mistake.”

“What? I did?” he exclaims. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” Kyungsoo’s cheeks warm. “I’m embarrassed. You shouldn’t have heard that.” He groans in frustration.

“No, come on, don’t feel that way,” Jongdae consoles him. “I figured you were probably drunk. I was worried about you so I called Chanyeol and asked him what happened.”

“I couldn’t lie to him,” Chanyeol says. “He threatened to grate my balls and sprinkle them on top of my favorite nachos.”

“Jesus Christ.” Kyungsoo cringes.

“On a brighter note, we’re here and we’ve got your back.” Jongdae smiles. “You’re not alone, Kyungsoo.”

* * *

It takes him a while to grow accustomed to Jongin's absence. The first week is usually the hardest. He tries to gain forward momentum through Jungsuk's guidance and focuses on the godforsaken research he must accomplish on time. The attempt, at least, forces him into a routine. He creates a to-do list that is complex and lengthy enough to keep him occupied from morning to evening. It doesn't matter if it includes doing a quick wipe-down of kitchen surfaces or deep cleaning the refrigerator. As long as the schedule is full, Kyungsoo can live through the day.

By the end of the month, he has become a computer slave. Scroll up. Scroll down. Stretch here. Stretch there. Write more. Worry less.

He receives a parcel from Busan. In a matter of seconds, he pries open the box and tears at the packaging. Under the brown sweater folded snugly inside, there is a letter. It reads: _I would give you all the hugs you need but for now, make yourself a cup of tea and stay warm. Love, Chaerin._

The holiday season arrives like a bullet train. Kyungsoo practically misses every important date that he should be celebrating. On Christmas Eve, he joins Ryeowook’s family for dinner. “Uncle, thank you, really,” he tells Ryeowook’s father. “You’re too kind to invite me here.”

Ryeowook’s father beams at him. “Oh, don’t be coy, you silly boy!” he coos. “You and Ryeowook have bonded like brothers over the years. I’m always happy to have you around.” He points a finger to Ryeowook. “He gives me a nasty headache. You are a breath of fresh air.”

“See? I told you, he wants to get rid of me,” Ryeowook quips.

They spend the evening laughing at topical jokes and reminiscing about the good old days. It’s not much, but perhaps Kyungsoo is slowly beginning to learn how to embrace the present.

Six months later, Junmyeon calls him from Osaka. “Guess what?” Junmyeon says. “I’ve found another business partner. They’re eager to promote my product to the Japanese market. It’s crazy.”

“You made it again,” Kyungsoo says. “Congratulations, Junmyeon. I wish I were there to cheer for your success and scream ‘screw you all’ to the naysayers.” He chuckles. “Seriously. You’ve been doing more than great since starting a company of your own.”

“Oh, yes, screw them all, indeed. We should grab some drinks soon.”

“Well, don’t stay out there too long, mister.”

Junmyeon laughs. “How are you with the new job, by the way?”

“It’s fun,” Kyungsoo speaks of the tech company he’s currently associated with as a project manager. “Definitely better than memorizing your boss’s jam-packed schedule.”

“Oh, Kyungsoo, you miss him, and it shows,” Junmyeon teases, but Kyungsoo doesn’t reply. “You know, I miss Baekhyun, too. But that’s just how it should be. You lose people, move on, and hope the best for them from a distance. It doesn’t necessarily mean that you need to rekindle your past, especially if you’re better without them.”

“Are you better without Baekhyun?” Kyungsoo asks.

“I’d like to think so. I heard he got engaged.”

“Did he ever contact you after you left?”

“Once? He said I wasn’t a loss to the company.”

“What an asshole.”

“That, I wouldn’t argue.” Junmyeon sighs. “What about you? Do you still think of Jongin?”

There is a momentary silence. “Sometimes I still do.”

* * *

On a chilly evening, Kyungsoo walks by the old headquarters. He stops across the street, gazing at the building and the people passing through the exit. Ah, one year feels extremely long. The memory remains vivid to him, and it stabs him in the ribs, making it hard for him to breathe.

Before he decides to go, he spots Hoon from a distance, staring at him. The things that immediately catch Kyungsoo's attention are Hoon's wrinkled skin and thinning hair. Corporate stress, he presumes, except that Jongin has never looked terrible as the top executive.

A lady ushers Hoon into the vehicle, and in less than a minute, he's gone. Kyungsoo inspects the area no further, not wanting to be seen or recognized by another ex-colleague. He hails a cab and heads straight home.

* * *

When Kyungsoo arrives in the restaurant, he receives a warm hug from an unexpected person, Yixing. He pulls him for another embrace. “Hyung, is that you?” he asks, gaping. He glances at the table where Ryeowook, Chanyeol, and Jongdae are seated.

“I'm here to celebrate your graduation with you and your friends,” Yixing says. “You have no idea how proud I am of you, Kyungsoo.” He grins. “You should be thanking Ryeowook for inviting me over. I would've missed a special moment in your life.”

Kyungsoo catches Ryeowook's eyes across the room. “Okay, you win, hyung. I've never been more surprised.”

“Oh, please, anything for you,” Ryeowook says. “Come on, you two. We're hungry. Chanyeol and Jongdae have been patient. I have been, too. But now I'm dying for a meal.”

“Thanks for waiting,” Kyungsoo says as he sits between Jongdae and Chanyeol. “Hold on, Jongdae, I thought you had a scheduled interview with your source.”

“I moved it to Thursday for you,” Jongdae says with a wink. “Chanyeol would've cursed me to oblivion if I ditched your celebration.”

“Yeah, I literally had to bait you with free food and drinks at your favorite bar, you fucking donkey,” Chanyeol gripes.

Jongdae shrugs. “You earn more money than I do.”

“Speaking of which,” Yixing chips in, “Kyungsoo, I heard you transferred. Why did you leave your man?” He chuckles, which is followed by an awkward silence. “Um, shit, I shouldn't have asked that, should I?”

Kyungsoo forces a smile. “It's okay. I'm currently a project manager at a tech company. It pays well and I've got an amazing team with me.” He nods at himself. “Jongin and I are no longer together, hyung. We stopped seeing each other two years ago."

“I'm sorry,” Yixing mumbles.

“Anyway,” Ryeowook says after a beat, “we actually brought graduation presents for you and Chanyeol. I'm sure you'll like them!”

“That better not be a gift certificate to a massage salon,” Chanyeol says. “I'm ticklish.”

Kyungsoo practically chokes. “Please spare us the details, Chanyeol. Jongdae and I have heard the story and it's indeed traumatizing.”

“Does it involve foot massage?” Yixing asks, blinking at a loss.

Jongdae snickers. “Yeah, and being fully naked with his dong hanging like a church bell.”

* * *

The digital clock ticks 7:00 p.m. He has been on the phone for an hour now, listening to Junmyeon’s financial story—and unwarranted rant. “Okay, sure, I’ve been away for months, but I care about you, Kyungsoo,” Junmyeon says. “You’re too fixated on your job. And I get it. You adore your team, but come on, you need to relax and enjoy what you’re missing.”

“What exactly am I missing, Junmyeon?” Kyungsoo asks in a challenging tone.

“The fun, in general. You're almost thirty!”

“I'm not almost thirty. I’m twenty-eight. That's a huge difference.”

“Fine, but it doesn’t make my point any less valid.” Junmyeon sounds exasperated. “Look, here’s my suggestion, and I want you to consider it. No, scratch that. I want you to say yes. I’ll be back in the city on the 19th. Be my plus-one and go to the charity ball with me.”

“Jesus, the 19th is a Monday. You know full well I can’t function on a Monday. It’s like the longest day of the week.”

“Should I beg?”

“Junmyeon, don’t do that.”

“Then say yes.”

Kyungsoo mulls over the proposition. “If you dare leave me high and dry in the middle of the fucking hall, I swear I'll pluck your eyelashes with rusty tweezers.”

“No worries. You can even hold my hand, darling,” Junmyeon quips, and Kyungsoo snorts. “I’m kidding. It's a friendly date or whatever. Call it in labels you deem appropriate. We've agreed not to cross that boundary and I'm keeping my word.”

“Cool. I'll still demand you pick me up, though.”

“I'm a gentleman, Kyungsoo. Of course, I will.”

* * *

He doesn’t remember being in a venue as spectacular as the hall where Junmyeon escorts him. The posh environment with expensive decor leaves Kyungsoo in awe. Men in tuxedoes surround the area. Staff members clad in black and white, carrying trays and serving tables, bustle around. Guests mingle, sipping champagne, lusting for figures Kyungsoo cannot count with bare hands.

As promised, Junmyeon sticks with him, introducing Kyungsoo to friends and acquaintances. There goes the casual, practiced smile that Kyungsoo wears to replicate the salutations. He has learned to use that in front of human dynamos like Chairman Lee. Ah, yes, he’s an expert in the business language and can carry the whole stage for Junmyeon. All he needs to do is be on his best behavior by complaining less about the air conditioning or the sleep-inducing music. 

“That's Mr. Sano,” he says, facing left where a gentleman is stationed between two ladies in glittering gowns. “Do you remember that news about the social networking service that'll soon take over Twitter's spot? He owns it.”

“Oh, wow. Born a genius, I suppose. What are you waiting for? You could talk to him!”

“You'd be surprised, but Mr. Sano was the first investor I had.”

“What?” Kyungsoo's eyes grow bigger. “No way. Are you shitting me?”

“I'm not kidding.” Junmyeon smiles. “He fell in love with the proposal, trusted me, and decided to fund my ideas. Without him, I would’ve given up.”

“You're doing so well,” Kyungsoo says.

“Proud of me?” Junmyeon nudges him playfully.

“I'll give you some credit. You're pretty amazing at what you do, Junmyeon. You've made a lot of wise decisions for yourself.”

“You thrive when you denude yourself of toxicity.”

“Now we’re talking.”

Junmyeon glances over Kyungsoo's shoulder, searching for more familiar people Kyungsoo has yet to meet. “I have to pee,” he tells Kyungsoo. “You'll be fine here, won't you?”

“Classic Junmyeon.” Kyungsoo tsks. “Sure, I'm not going anywhere.”

A staff offers Kyungsoo a glass of champagne, and he gladly accepts it. Minutes later, he saunters further down the hall, checking the seats in hopes of finding Junmyeon. The song changes to a joyous melody, which he appreciates, thanks to the DJ.

He spots Mr. Sano again, but the Japanese mogul is now conversing with a man Kyungsoo recognizes. One blink. Two blinks. He cannot be wrong. It’s Jongin.

It doesn’t take long before Jongin’s eyes cut to Kyungsoo’s direction. They say time only stops in movies, and that’s correct, proven and tested because Jongin pretends Kyungsoo doesn’t exist, has never existed. With that, Kyungsoo backpedals and seeks refuge among the crowd.

Perfect. There is literally no point in greeting Jongin a _hi_ or _hello_. They have become complete strangers. Not like it matters. To Kyungsoo, it shouldn’t. He attempts to locate Junmyeon by flooding him with angry messages and calling him nonstop.

Another fifteen minutes pass. Kyungsoo swears to himself that he’ll go home if Junmyeon doesn’t show up before his patience runs out. Besides, a deal is a deal. How dare Junmyeon!

“Kyungsoo.”

_Fucking finally._

Kyungsoo turns around only to see Jongin standing in front of him.

* * *

> _Author's Note: Hello! Sorry for the very late update. Are you still there? Haha! I hope you are because I've missed writing here. I might be able to work on the next chapter earlier than expected. Anyway, take care, and happy new year, everyone!_


	19. For a Reason

There is a pregnant pause that sticks in the air between Jongin and Kyungsoo. It’s far from a casual moment, indeed, and the minute of silence that follows as they reach the veranda, away from the music and noise inside the hall, proves it. If Kyungsoo is being honest, he doesn’t want to say too much or too little, but hell, after two years of no communication, what does Jongin expect from him? Where is he supposed to begin?

“So, how are you?” Jongin asks.

Oh, the cold-sweat-inducing question.

It takes Kyungsoo a glimpse to catch each and every detail about Jongin. He notices the nifty three-piece suit that fits him impeccably, the brown-turned-black hair styled to an undercut and coiffed to perfection, the finger without a golden shackle that is a wedding ring, and the peppered stubble right above Jongin’s lips. For a man in his mid-thirties, Jongin looks dashing.

“Well…I am doing a bit better than before, but not nearly as marvelous as I should be,” Kyungsoo says. He doesn’t miss the way Jongin’s lips curl up into a sheepish smile. “No, really, I’m fine. Thank you for the concern, Jongin. Your attempt at social interaction to be polite is hereby acknowledged.”

Jongin chuckles. “Now I feel adequate. Thank you, too, Kyungsoo.”

“Don’t mention it. What brings you to the party?”

“Business as usual. And you?”

Kyungsoo falters, but the realization that he and Jongin have been leading separate lives for quite a long time dawns on him. “Junmyeon invited me to come with him,” he says. “Couldn’t decline. He said he had to be present for a business partner, which was an obvious lie. There was no business partner.”

“Actually, you’re talking to the business partner.” Jongin faces him.

“Oh.” Kyungsoo’s mouth opens, then shuts. He bites back a curse and promises to roast Junmyeon’s ass later. Friendship be damned. “It’s you?”

“We’re on good terms. You shouldn’t worry about it.”

“Of course. Um, does that mean you’re—?”

“Mr. Sung had to step down. He was diagnosed with liver cancer several months ago. The board called for an emergency meeting. I didn’t expect they would contact me. It happened fast, and then one morning, I found myself sitting in that office again.”

For an odd reason, something twists in Kyungsoo’s chest. “That’s amazing.” He nods, nonetheless. “I’m happy for you.”

Silence. “Look, Kyungsoo.”

“I better find Junmyeon,” Kyungsoo interrupts. He cannot stay. He will not stay. There are unresolved issues to discuss between them, he recognizes that, but at the expense of what? “It's nice seeing you around, Jongin,” Kyungsoo says, and in a fraction of a second, he marches back inside the hall, leaving Jongin without a goodbye.

Finally, he locates Junmyeon sidling up to the bar for a drink. “Where have you been?” Junmyeon asks him.

“Where have _you_ been?” Kyungsoo says petulantly. “Why didn't you tell me about Jongin? You took me here on purpose, didn't you? Jesus, Junmyeon.”

“I thought that would make you happy,” Junmyeon reasons. “How did it go? Did you guys do it?”

“Do fucking what?” Kyungsoo grumbles. The bartender attends to him, then grabs a bottle of Scotch Blue. “It was awkward.” His voice stabilizes but his expression remains peeved. He heaves a sigh. “He hasn't changed.”

“Admit it, you've missed him.”

Kyungsoo doesn't answer. Instead, he pursues a sip of whiskey.

Junmyeon is staring at him like a judge on a masked dancer show. “How many men did you reject in the past? And please exclude me from the demographic.”

“God, seriously?” Kyungsoo laughs a sardonic laugh. “Do you think that's the kind of thing I count over my morning coffee? Junmyeon, I beg you, quit it.”

“Fine.”

“Wonderful. Thank you.”

“For the record, you're always running away. It's frustrating,” Junmyeon says point-blank. “You know it's over, yeah, but you're yearning and you can’t hide that from me, okay?” He lifts a finger to silence Kyungsoo's protest. “I'm not done. Kyungsoo, you drown yourself in a sea of vexation because that is your safe space; that is your security blanket. What you and Jongin had was special. Stop trying very hard to squeeze it in the back of your head.”

The words on the tip of Kyungsoo's tongue go astray. “What did you expect me to do?” he asks. “Profess my old pathetic love, say 'Jongin, let's try again,' and creep him out for sounding like a crazy, obsessive ex?”

“I'm pretty sure you're the type of ex who walks the streets cautiously because you’re scared of bumping into him. But here we are.” Junmyeon smirks.

“An assumption.”

“No, a fact I can support with solid proof.”

Kyungsoo seethes. He’s not having Junmyeon’s bullshit tonight. “I'm tired and I’m leaving. Goodbye, Junmyeon.”

“Oh my god, don't be mad! Wait!” Junmyeon hollers, trailing behind him. “Can I at least drive you home?”

Cute. That's an offer he cannot refuse, not at an hour before midnight strikes. Kyungsoo turns around, stifling a grin. He says, “Yeah, you can.”

* * *

They say a clutter-free workspace stimulates a clutter-free mind. On the surface, there are postcards from Yixing, a bamboo desktop shelf that stores all the essentials, and sticky notes pasted neatly on a bulletin board. Everything is organized to Kyungsoo's satisfaction. It has always been easy for him to concentrate in the office. But on a particular morning of Friday, he suffers from a barrage of emails, unable to respond with any level of intellectual rigor.

Phones ring nonstop. Chairs squeak, roll, squeak, roll. Employees gather to chat about and laugh at a newfound gossip involving a famous local actor. Kyungsoo is too exhausted to deal with them. He shifts position on the swivel chair to keep his feet from falling asleep.

“Mr. Do?” a young lady shows at the door.

Kyungsoo snaps to attention. “Hi, Momo. How can I help you?”

“Lunch meeting today? We’re ready to go. Let me know if there’s anything else I can assist you with.”

“Oh, yes, thank you for reminding me. I'll be there in a minute.”

The lunch meeting ensues at an upscale restaurant. As the project manager, Kyungsoo welcomes a new team member in an uber-casual, non-threatening atmosphere. It's his unique way of bringing them closer and eliminating intimidation for better results on the job.

Soon, Kyungsoo excuses himself. He heads for the bathroom, but on the way out, he chances upon another familiar face from the past, Taemin. He registers Taemin's half-shocked, half-elated “Kyungsoo!” and freezes to the spot as he feels a pair of arms around him.

“Oh, I've been thinking about you!” Taemin says. “What are you here for?”

“I'm having lunch with a couple colleagues,” Kyungsoo tells him.

Taemin nods. “You look amazing. Still handsome.”

Kyungsoo's smile grows fonder. “Thank you, Taemin. I'm flattered. You look terrific, too.” He sweeps an arm toward Taemin’s. “And you must be hitting the gym more often.”

“Oh, yeah.” Taemin blushes, chuckling. He clears his throat. “I heard you and Jongin met at the charity ball last week.”

“Yes, we did.” Kyungsoo doesn't elaborate further.

“I'm glad you guys are mature enough to greet each other.”

“Had to catch up.”

Taemin glances behind him, specifically at the group of men around the circular table. “The client awaits,” he says. “Hey, we're hanging out tonight. Just me, Minseok hyung, and Jongin. Would you like to come? If having Jongin around is okay with you, of course. It’s just you've been MIA for two years.”

Kyungsoo's lips twitch with hesitation. “Um.”

“It won't hurt, and I promise we'll be quick. Gotta enjoy the weekend, too. And I'm sure Minseok hyung will be happy to see you.”

“Okay,” Kyungsoo says. _It won't hurt_ , he reminds himself.

* * *

_I want the best for you but I also want you to protect yourself from getting hurt. Okay? Call me if you need someone to pick you up._ Ryeowook's text message reads.

_Lure him back, Kyungsoo! Don't be a coward. Just go for it or I'll personally walk to that club and lock you both in a room._ Junmyeon's text message reads, not to forget the squinting-face-with-tongue emoji in the end.

There are two types of friends: the angel and the devil. Kyungsoo doesn't have to identify who’s under those categories because it has been clear to him since the very beginning.

He arrives at the club right on time. Without a thought, he dives into the crowd, anticipating the evening motherfuckery that is destined to occur. But amid the neon lights and dark-hued walls, he steps back, convinced that he must have gone crazy for listening to Junmyeon. He stumbles upon a couple making out in a corner, bumps into a stranger, and frantically seeks escape. He sees the red exit sign to the left gleaming like a beacon of sanity in an area filled with debauchery.

Before Kyungsoo can even push the doors open, he hears Taemin behind him. “Kyungsoo, hey!” Taemin screams through the ear-piercing music. “We've been waiting for you!”

“Yeah, I couldn't find you.” Sure, the devil gains a point because of that lie.

Taemin giggles. “Oh, you! We're up there!”

Kyungsoo follows Taemin to the private mezzanine where VIP booths are located. The first person he greets is Minseok who cannot contain his excitement when he offers Kyungsoo a hug.

“You almost missed me,” Minseok says. “Lucky you, though. I was about to leave.”

“What do you mean? I just got here.” Kyungsoo puts a hand over Minseok's knee. “Stay, hyung. Please?”

“It's not gonna work, Kyungsoo,” Taemin chips in. “That's a married man. That's a lost cause.”

Minseok chuckles. “Don't be silly, Taemin. I can never compete with my one true boss.” He reverts to Kyungsoo. “The thing is, my wife is calling. She's not very happy about me spending Friday nights outside instead of watching movies with the kids.”

“Yeah, because you're totally obsessed with How to Train Your Dragon, that’s why,” Taemin jests.

“It's my favorite!” Minseok beams. “Kyungsoo, keep in touch, okay? I swear to god if you disappear again.”

“Promise, I won't.”

“Lovely. Taemin and Jongin will be with you all through the night. There's nothing to worry about. I guarantee you. Just chill.”

“Where's Jongin?” Taemin asks.

“He's probably in the bathroom.”

“Or on the phone with Mr. Wu.”

“Mr. Wu?” Kyungsoo says.

“Yeah, the phenomenal Mr. Wu. Can't ignore him. He always has something important to share with the world,” Taemin explains.

“For Christ's sake, the line is insane,” Jongin says, emerging from the opposite corridor. He looks over at Kyungsoo. “You're here.” He smiles.

“I'm here.” Kyungsoo acknowledges him, and Minseok feigns a cough. There is a lapse of silence among them.

“All right!” Minseok says, full of energy. “It's time for me to go. Kyungsoo, text me, okay? Fancy brunch with me on a weekend, eh? Should be a deal because you owe me years’ worth of stories. What do you say?”

“I say yes, hyung, I'd love to have brunch with you.” Kyungsoo grins.

Minseok wears his jacket. “Enjoy the night, everybody.” He bids farewell before he leaves the floor.

Jongin's eyebrows scrunch together. Ah, there is the classic frown that Kyungsoo may or may not have missed. “I'm lost. Why did he leave?” he asks. “What happened while I was gone?”

“His wife happened,” Taemin says. “I didn't dare. She'd kill me.”

* * *

“I once put food in the microwave and entered my pin number,” Taemin says. “Not my proudest moment, but I was smashed as fuck. Felt as though I wouldn't survive a minute without food in my mouth.” He guffaws, nudging Jongin. “We ordered pizza and fries and we talked about mammals at length. It was enlightening.”

Kyungsoo blinks. “Mammals?” he repeats in disbelief, and from his peripheral vision, he catches Jongin making a face.

“Mammals. You know, rhinoceroses, elephants, koalas, and oh, shit, polar bears—I adore them to death.” Taemin's eyes sparkle. “What else?” He ponders, comically serious. “Giraffes? Jesus Christ, I can't hold it in anymore. I need to use the toilet. You guys, don't go running around, okay?”

“Will you be fine?” Kyungsoo asks as Taemin rises from the barstool with wobbly feet. It hits him that Taemin has been drinking a lot.

“You okay?” Jongin says, observing Taemin.

“I'm not a fucking baby!” Taemin snorts. “I'll be back very soon.” He flashes them a grin, then totters toward the bathroom's direction.

Ah, Taemin's definition of very soon must be a hundred years because ten minutes later, he's still out of sight. Perhaps he has found a hottie to chat with. Liquid courage works like magic—powerful yet treacherous. Kyungsoo can only hope Taemin doesn't resort to clichéd pickup lines.

“Should I check on him?” he asks Jongin.

“Sure, I'm not going anywhere.” Jongin's phone pings, then. He opens the message. The sender's name appears on the screen. It's Taemin. “Got a text from him. He said he bumped into a college friend.” He exhales, possibly because of the simmering frustration. “We'll have to wait. Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, I'm okay. I mean, it's okay with me.” Kyungsoo scratches his chin. The evening has never seemed so long.

Jongin's fingers drum erratically on the bar top. He nurses the Chardonnay then takes a satisfying sip from the rim. He scrutinizes the area where almost every club-goer is either winding through one another or jostling for space to hang around.

The shots of vodka help, at the very least, or so they seem. Kyungsoo formulates ways in which he can appear completely poised and casual. He leaves Jongin free to watch the crowd and doesn't force a conversation to pop the bubble in the air. What are they supposed to talk about over the gritty song blaring from the speakers? Nothing has ever been the same as before; that's the truth. He wonders, though, if Jongin cares enough to salvage them both from the lack of subject-appropriate conversation.

“Do you want to dance?” Kyungsoo asks. This shouldn't be a big deal. What's wrong with attempting to socialize? In hindsight, how much alcohol has he drunk? Does it matter? _God._ It's not like he's wheedling Jongin into committing a crime. Kyungsoo can handle him, can't he?

Jongin gives the crowd a once-over. “Are you serious?” he says, interested and shocked in equal measure.

“No.”

But Jongin doesn't buy Kyungsoo's response. “I want to dance.” 

Kyungsoo's expression softens. He fights the urge to agree to the invitation. “Jongin, I was kidding.” Great. Now he sounds ludicrous.

“You absolutely weren't. Come on.” Jongin gently grabs him by the arm, tugging him toward the dancefloor, searching for a spot nearby. Kyungsoo resists for a moment until he surrenders. His heart thrums hard and his body goes pliant.

He squints through the dark room, fogged with strobe lights and sweat-soaked figures. He starts with a cascade of movements. “Am I doing it right?” The bass thumps in his chest.

“You're not so bad.” Jongin smiles. He follows the rhythm, which has a faster pace than that of the previous. “Let out that energy, Kyungsoo,” he teases. “You've got to put your back into it.”

“I'm trying!”

“I can tell.”

Kyungsoo relies on a sequence that feels natural to him, and that pretty much involves raising the arms over the head in a circle. Who cares if he can only go that far? Not Jongin. But goddamn, how does Jongin do the hip-swirling attractively? It's not fair. Kyungsoo simply loves it, loves that Jongin doesn't mind having to be shameless in front of him. “You're quite a dancer, aren't you?”

“Are you impressed?” Jongin says with a chuckle.

“Yeah, I am. Must be a secret talent.”

“Not-so-secret around you.”

The song changes after minutes. Instinctively, Kyungsoo turns to face Jongin, and at such proximity, he imagines how intimate it would be to stand close to him—skin against skin, mouth against mouth. _Jesus Christ._ He shouldn't be daydreaming of that because Jongin is over him.

Or perhaps not.

Jongin's fingers slip behind Kyungsoo's neck, pulling him in until they are only a few inches apart. He sways Kyungsoo from side to side and grooves to the beat in sync.

They both freeze, but neither breaks eye contact.

“What are you thinking about?” Jongin's voice echoes in Kyungsoo's ear.

Kyungsoo flounders. He cannot answer, not without being too honest and borderline idiotic. _You. More touching. Less clothing. More kissing. Less teasing_. Of course, he spares Jongin the details and just rocks together with him. _Don't fall for it_ , he berates himself. _It's the alcohol speaking._

But Kyungsoo dares. “Any guess?” he says, running a palm on Jongin's chest, up and down. He feels Jongin holding him close enough to breathe in that earthy scent, then there is that undue warmth in the pit of Kyungsoo's stomach. His lips part and his blood rockets south.

“I'll try.” Jongin's fingers slide under Kyungsoo's jaw, thumb caressing the spot, and just like that, he has Kyungsoo's waist caught around his arm. Slowly, Jongin leans in. “How about a clue?” he whispers.

It's a terrifying and exhilarating moment for Kyungsoo. He realizes all the years without Jongin may have been good, but not better. And—

“There you are!” Taemin yells, causing Jongin and Kyungsoo to stagger away from each other's grasp. “Oh, shit, no, do you guys need some privacy? I'm so sorry. I'm so stupid.” He grunts. “I ruined it, didn't I?”

“That's it, he's drunk,” Jongin tells Kyungsoo.

“Says the drunk person,” Kyungsoo retorts.

“Excuse me?” Jongin frowns at the accusation. “I'm not drunk.” He hooks an arm under Taemin's body—a boneless heap. “Time to go home.”

“Clubbing is so, so fun!” Taemin exclaims. “Yeah? We should dance! We should dance!”

Jongin says, “No, we shouldn't.”

Eventually, they hail a cab for Taemin past midnight. The poor soul will need a cure for hangover tomorrow for sure. Jongin insists on driving Kyungsoo home, telling him that he’s capable and doesn’t mind it at all. Kyungsoo accepts the offer out of courtesy. He refuses to argue with Jongin further and hops straight into the vehicle. If there is one thing clear to him, he’s bushed and ready to crash.

“Okay,” Kyungsoo says, sitting upright. He glances at Jongin with curiosity. “What's wrong?”

Jongin huffs. He reaches for the passenger's seatbelt. He pulls the shoulder strap across Kyungsoo's body and locks the buckle into the metal with an audible click. “Want to bet who's drunk?” he taunts.

“You could've told me, really. It's almost one in the morning, Jongin.”

“What does that have to do anything with you forgetting safety rules?”

“My brain isn't functioning well.”

“Yeah, I wonder why.” That shuts Kyungsoo up. Jongin maneuvers the car to the parking exit and begins traversing the highway.

Kyungsoo doesn't speak until Jongin switches on the music audio. “How's your mother?” he asks in a cautious tone, hoping the question doesn't bother Jongin.

“She's great, has been married to Adam for a year and a half,” Jongin says. “They stay in New York. She gets awfully busy with her projects but she visits here from time to time. A lot more frequent than before, which is a surprise to me.”

“You're okay with that?”

“Of course.”

“That’s beautiful. I mean, she deserves to be happy.”

“Absolutely.” There is another lengthy pause. “You were right. Change doesn't have to be bad. It might have taken me a while to accept it, but here I am. I think Adam is a fantastic husband. And it's fulfilling to see Mother be with somebody she loves.”

Kyungsoo nods. “Good for you.” He stares ahead, but he doesn't fail to notice Jongin's eyes cutting back at him.

“Thanks for coming tonight. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

“You do? I'm almost certain you're not pleased with what happened back there.”

Jongin chuckles softly. “For a reason.”

“For a reason?”

The car eases by the curb in front of Kyungsoo's house. Jongin only responds with a smile. “Should I walk you to the door?”

“No, I'll be fine. Thank you.”

“You're welcome, Kyungsoo. As always.”

The quietness of the room welcomes him as he trudges inside and leans against the door. He studies the ticking clock intently. One minute. Three minutes. Five minutes. Then he hears a knock. Kyungsoo doesn't need to second-guess who it is. He opens the door, and to no surprise, there stands Jongin. Kyungsoo greets him with a faint _hi_ —calm, cool, and collected at the helm of his own scheme.

“You dropped something,” Jongin says as he waves Kyungsoo's black cap at him.

He takes the item from Jongin. “What was I thinking?”

Jongin looks amused. “You tell me, Kyungsoo.”

“I told you, my brain isn't functioning well.”

“For a reason, too, I suppose.”

“Maybe?”

Jongin doesn't waver. He casts about for any sign that matches his suspicion. “Do you want me in there?” he asks.

“Do _you_ want to be in there?” Kyungsoo challenges, and it earns him a laugh from Jongin. “What's funny?”

“Nothing.” Jongin shakes his head. “You should rest. It's very late, okay?”

It's easy for Kyungsoo not to miss how Jongin is dragging the conversation to dangerous territory. Ah, this. He can remember a number of instances in the past. “What?” Kyungsoo hums. “Something holding you back?”

Jongin finally decides to run for it. “I would've kissed you if you weren't teasing me about it.” He retreats and watches how Kyungsoo's face contorts into a fleshy mass of frustration. Jongin's smile becomes bigger. “Good night, Kyungsoo.”

“I wasn't teasing!”


	20. Half Again

The sound of the buzzing phone in the bedroom awakens him from another dreamless slumber. Kyungsoo paws over and under the bedsheets, fingers gliding away the cotton fabric, beleaguered by the struggle to locate the device with squinty, morning eyes only to realize that it’s on the nightstand. “It’s eight fucking o’clock, Junmyeon,” he says in a raspy voice.

“It’s 8:17, actually,” Junmyeon corrects him. “Are you still in bed?”

Kyungsoo blinks as though trying to see the world better. The attempt doesn’t cure him out of a mild hangover, but it helps him spot the black cap hanging from the doorknob. Ah, hell yeah, there goes the souvenir from la-la-shameland. In that moment, the flashbacks come flooding in, stronger than a goddamned current, clearer than a 4K YouTube video. “What is it?” he asks Junmyeon.

“Are you at home?”

“Of course, where else do you think I am?”

Junmyeon hums in acknowledgment. “Well, the quest must have been a failure. You’d be at Jongin’s dining table having a hearty breakfast with him if you succeeded.”

“That’s the last straw. I’m hanging up.” Kyungsoo sits up. “Goodbye, Junmyeon.”

“No, wait, come on, I’m concerned about you!” Junmyeon cries. “Let’s not use aggression, please? I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He anticipates a response but receives none. “So, how did it go? Would you like to tell me?”

Kyungsoo exhales—a sign that he’s too mortified to even begin the story. “I hit on him for sure.” He drowns in regret. How can he forget the dance? There is no mathematical way to do it because first, Jongin is incredible, and second, Kyungsoo simply can’t, not after putting on a show in front of him, too. “It was embarrassing and it shouldn’t have happened,” he continues. “I made a mistake of going to that club.” Now seems the perfect time to reflect on drinking habits. “I feel awful.”

“Calm down.” Junmyeon’s tone is conciliatory, like that of a west village dad. “We’ll figure it out together.”

“There’s nothing to figure out, Junmyeon. Jongin and I are done. That’s the truth. I’m fine. I’m fine without him.”

“I know you are. I have no doubts. You can do your stuff singlehandedly—and I don’t mean _that_ stuff you do with the lights off. But Kyungsoo, you’re lonely.”

“Are we forgetting that he broke me apart two years ago?”

“You broke him apart, too. Screw the villains in that company, yes, but you and Jongin were tangled up in a complicated situation. It wasn’t fair to him, neither to you. And you let him go.”

“I did not let him go. I begged him to stay.”

“Try again.”

“Then what? Wait for him to shoot me down? How many times do I have to chase a man who doesn't want me? Who can obviously be a functional human being without me? Jesus Christ, I'm reaching a whole new level of pathetic!” He wilts. “Can you at least let me bathe first? I stink.”

Junmyeon ignores Kyungsoo’s excuse and proceeds to delve further into the subject. “Do you still love him?”

Oh, cue the drumroll.

Kyungsoo's initial reaction is to brush it aside. But something inside him burns without extinguish, and the fire lingers, unremitting, wild enough for his chest to start hurting. “This is ridiculous.”

“Not really,” Junmyeon says. “You don’t have to answer me, but I hope the question sticks with you as you stand behind the shower curtain. I hope you hallucinate the words as you take your first sip of coffee or as you dust your furniture.”

“I hate you. Oh, god, I do.”

“Debatable. I adore you even though you’re probably the most insufferable friend I’ve ever had.”

“Baekhyun won't be happy to hear that.”

Junmyeon sniggers. “He can have a different title along the lines of manipulative and conceited, and to be fair, he can pick one himself.”

“For a man who has spearheaded multiple donation drives, you're pretty savage,” Kyungsoo quips.

“You're sidetracking me! Seriously, Kyungsoo. I'm rooting for you and Jongin. Whatever your decision is, I'll be here. I trust that you'll choose not only what's right for you but also what's best for you.”

Finally, the conversation ends. With a decent amount of effort, Kyungsoo crawls out of bed and wends to the kitchen. He empties a bottle of water after a few large gulps. When will he learn a lesson? You cannot vodka away your personal issues nor deep-seated fears. Avoid the vitamin V or suffer the consequences and walk the not-so-red carpet of shame. Treat alcohol percentage like a tag price in a high-class clothing boutique. Pretend clubs are libraries where patrons behave, not rave.

Kyungsoo strips, almost lazily, then steps into the shower, toes flinching as they touch the ceramic floor. He welcomes the pebbles of steamy water cascading down his body and soaks in his ideal temperature. Lather here. Scrub there. Rinse here. Exfoliate there. Once finished, he faces the bathroom mirror, half-naked, towel wrapped around the waist. His hair drips wet. He pats the strands gently with a clean cloth.

When Kyungsoo’s phone rings on the counter, he frowns at the thought of Junmyeon nagging him for another round. He checks the call only to see Jongin’s name on the screen.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ His brain frantically scrambles for an extemporaneous speech of sorts.

“Hi,” he greets. It doesn’t take him a while to realize he could’ve at least grabbed a t-shirt from the closet. But that’s the least important thing right now.

“Good morning, Kyungsoo,” Jongin says over the line.

Is Jongin using office language? Or is Kyungsoo reading too much into it?

“I called because I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize? For what?” Kyungsoo asks.

“I behaved terribly last night and I might have said very inappropriate things.”

Silence. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Is it?”

“You’d never say them if you weren’t drinking. I knew that.”

More silence. “Look, Kyungsoo, it was rather foolish of me. Heedless, if I may add. And I’m sorry. I should’ve been more responsible and more sensitive. You and I—”

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo interrupts, having to maintain composure. “I’m not angry. Okay? Is there anything else? Because I’m a bit busy and I’m sure you are, too.”

“Can I make it up to you?”

“It’s not necessary.”

“Kyungsoo, I…” Jongin trails off. “I know things have been different between us.”

“Exactly,” Kyungsoo says in a plaintive tone. “Things have been different, and they don’t matter anymore. You’ve moved on, and I have to be okay with that. I simply have to be.” The cat is out of the bag. He can’t turn back, not at a point where he has gotten the chance to confront Jongin. “Do you really think a fifteen-minute conversation at a fancy café will change the past? That’s not how it works, Jongin.” He huffs. “You left me. You disappeared completely.”

“Yes, I did.” Jongin sounds defeated. “And I wish I didn’t.”

“Stop.”

“I lost.”

“No, you did not.” Kyungsoo’s brows curve into a scowl. “You had everything. I had nothing.” The room spins. He grips the edge of the counter for leverage.

Jongin laughs dryly. “What? You thought I had everything? Kyungsoo, I almost lost everything.”

There is an agonizing pause. Kyungsoo swallows as though words should remain unspoken, shackled to the tongue, baring little to no significance. “Please don’t ever contact me again.”

He ends the call. He falls straight to the floor, leaning against the cupboard, his heart beating fast. “Fuck!” he screams in a mixture of anger and frustration.

“Kyungsoo? Are you all right?” Jongin’s voice echoes through the phone.

_Motherfucker._

Kyungsoo’s muscles tense at the realization that he must’ve failed to drop the call. He fumbles for the red icon to hang up on Jongin, then allows himself to breathe. One. Two. Three. “Not my day. Not my day.”

* * *

It’s quarter to eight in the evening. The bar is packed with customers, both drunk and sober—a usual scenario for regulars who have been to the hot spot since day one. “Can I buy you a drink?” Ryeowook asks as he slides into the booth next to Kyungsoo.

“No, thank you, hyung,” Kyungsoo says. “I'm almost convinced I've got shit for brains because of alcohol.” He raises a plum tea over ice. “Here's to me taking a break from making bad life decisions.”

Ryeowook strikes a despairing pose. “You're having plum tea in a bar? How life-altering is that?” he teases. “Now. Now.” He circles a comforting arm around Kyungsoo's shoulders. “Let's analyze your situation.”

“Let’s not.” Kyungsoo deadpans. “There's no scientific explanation or magical reason for it, okay? Do you remember that day you ran into your distant cousin? It's like that, okay? It's like meeting your high school archenemy at a reunion. It's like buying a pack of cigarettes at a convenience store and realizing that the cashier is your childhood friend. Okay? Oh, god. Why do I keep saying okay?” He frowns inwardly. “But you get the point. It's not fate. It's not fairytale, soulmates, whatever-you-call-it bullcrap.”

“While I agree with you, I think it's important to account the fact that you've never been to the dating scene since your breakup with Jongin. That, young man, speaks volumes.”

“Sure, I'm single, but it doesn't mean I'm hung up on him.”

“Didn't say that. You're putting words into my mouth.”

“Jesus.” Kyungsoo laughs it off because that's literally the only way he can squash the guilt. Ryeowook's point slaps, though. There is more than a smattering of truth to it. For the past years, he has never batted an eye to the men who have shown interest in him.

“Exhibit A. Choi Minho. The guy tries to win you. And what do you do? You pretend he doesn’t exist.”

“Minho is not my type.”

“Oh, please. He fits your type. He’s tall. He’s handsome. He’s intelligent. But oops, he’s not Kim Jongin.”

“Hyung,” Kyungsoo warns with a stern look. “It’s not Jongin’s fault that I’m not attracted to Minho.”

“Listen, nothing's wrong with being vulnerable,” Ryeowook says. “I always, always wish for your happiness. If it's having Jongin back, then I support you. I don't condemn him. I _can’t_ condemn him. Everybody should be given a second chance to prove themselves worthy of love. We can't live with hate nor apathy, not without suffering day after day.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Hyung, it's just—I just have so many questions,” Kyungsoo says, gazing downward. “I want to hear the answers from him, but part of me is terrified of what's going to happen. Will they bring me peace? Will they hurt?” He shrugs. “Will they ever be enough?”

“Then ask.” Ryeowook places a hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder. 

“What if they're not the answers I'm expecting?”

“You leave and you never return. But you grow and you learn.”

* * *

The door across Kyungsoo’s office creaks open. There stands Minho, flashing a broad and somehow desperate grin. “I didn’t know you stayed behind,” Minho says as he marches toward Kyungsoo’s direction with a full-bodied posture that makes him appear taller. “Are you leaving?”

“Um, yes, that’s the plan,” Kyungsoo says.

Minho peeks at the wall clock. “I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner. With me?”

Kyungsoo contemplates. The fact that there is food involved sets the invitation into relevance. Not only does he get to eat, but he can also neutralize the lapses of awkward silence by pretending to chew the life out of the meat or veggies. Perhaps it’s not entirely a bad idea to have Minho around. The man seems determined enough to try his luck again when he should be heading home to rest.

“Sure, I’m famished. What do you have in mind?”

Minho’s eyes twinkle. Literally. Like, they have discovered a rare pair of 24K gold earrings. “Smoked ribs?” he suggests. “It’s up to you. I’m not a picky eater.”

They opt for a small restaurant near the office that serves the best ox bone soup, according to an unofficial survey. Despite its size, the place is polished and cozy. A few locals can be seen congregating at the biggest table while a couple sits in a quiet corner having a serious, possibly-pre-breakup conversation over bowls of army stew.

“What were you working on?” Minho asks.

“Ah, I had to finish the updated report on the project in Busan,” Kyungsoo explains. He can sense Minho’s struggle to choose a topic they can chat about.

“You love your job, don’t you? It reflects on your actions. You’ve been praised by management several times before. I admire you, Kyungsoo.”

“Thank you. I’m flattered. I do love my job. I’ve got an amazing team and I’m sure I’ll be with the company long-term. I mean, if the policies do not change, of course.”

Minho nods. Then there slips the dead air between them. Fortunately, the order arrives, distracting them both from the pressure of talking.

“This is good,” Kyungsoo says after he pursues a piece of rib.

“Glad you like it.” Minho smiles a megawatt smile.

More and more dead air. 

“Um, Kyungsoo, I heard a rumor from a colleague and I thought it would be better to ask you personally. Were you actually fired from J&T?”

“Excuse me?” Kyungsoo stiffens.

“I’m sorry,” Minho mumbles, red-eared. “It wasn’t my intention to offend you. I just couldn’t believe you had a thing with one of the top guys in the company.” He gulps, alarmed by Kyungsoo’s reaction. “But it’s your past, and I accept you for who you are. I don’t care if you’re imperfect. I don’t care if you’re that kind of person.”

Kyungsoo’s stomach does a flip. He glares at Minho. “What kind of person?” he says an octave higher. Before Minho can even respond, Kyungsoo’s phone rings. Perfect timing. He briefly reverses to Minho. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” Minho’s energy has shrunk to the size of a broccolini.

In less than a minute, Kyungsoo settles in a private spot outside the restaurant. He answers the call. “Hello, Minseok hyung? What’s the matter?”

“Jongin got into a car accident.” The urgency in Minseok’s voice is palpable.

“What?” Kyungsoo exclaims. “Is he okay? Where is he?”

“Eric brought him to the hospital hours ago. I felt it was best to let you know.”

“But how is he?” His chest rises and falls with rapid breathing.

“He’s still unconscious as of the moment, but if you’re available, perhaps you can visit him tonight.”

“Oh, god.” Kyungsoo’s lips quiver. He paces the length of the entrance, and the usual follows: he revives the old habit of nail-biting.

“Don’t panic, okay?” Minseok says gently. “Just come by. I’ll text you the details.”

“Thank you, hyung.”

As soon as the phone call ends, Kyungsoo rushes back inside, straight to the table. He doesn’t waste a minute and confronts Minho. “I need to go,” he tells him. Minho’s expression is a combination of are-you-fucking-kidding-me and how-dare-you.

“Is it because of me?”

“No, it’s not because of you, Minho. In fact, you’re right about my past, but that doesn’t concern you anymore.” Kyungsoo exits, then stops to spin around. He slams a wad of bills on the table, startling Minho, earning glances from other customers, including the staff. “I’m not that kind of person. You don’t know me.”

Kyungsoo hails a cab and instructs the driver to the address. By the time he reaches the hospital, the clock has ticked 8:22 p.m. He hurries inside the twelve-story building. He moves with steady strides down the main lobby, then locates Jongin's room, trembling, reminded of the family members he lost to a crash almost a decade ago and how severe destruction it had been.

The elevator stops on a private ward that smells of vanilla. Not that scent matters to him. Kyungsoo consults the nurse at the station. “To the left, please,” she says.

A sharp pain grows in Kyungsoo’s chest, like a knife digging a hole inside, twisting the tip, prodding deeper and deeper until it becomes difficult to breathe.

He peers at the tiny window through which Jongin is in and pries the door open as quietly as possible. He saunters toward him. Surprisingly, Jongin seems well, except that he has a couple of facial bruises.

Gingerly, Kyungsoo sits on the chair beside the bed. He gazes at the curve of Jongin's chin, eyes roaming across the skin, from the pair of soft-colored lips to the nose, to the cheek, then to the puffy flesh under the eye. It hits him how frail Jongin looks asleep. Something in Kyungsoo shatters. His whole body physically aches and his throat constricts at the sight in front of him.

He attempts to reach for Jongin's hand but immediately withdraws as Jongin wakes, squinting at the bright light overhead, possibly with the threat of pain slithering between his temples.

Jongin turns to him. “Kyungsoo?” he says, groggy. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting?”

“Who told you?”

“Minseok hyung did. I mean, my schedule is not as hectic as usual. So, yeah, I'm clearly free to see you.”

Jongin huffs a soft laugh. “I appreciate it.”

“How are you feeling?” Kyungsoo asks.

“Much better, I guess. I can't move my arm but I'm glad the doctors don’t need to chop it off,” he jokes. “That’ll be a nightmare for me, especially when I’m writing an email.”

Kyungsoo contains his amusement. “What exactly happened?”

“A driver of a minivan lost control in the highway. Eric tried to dodge him, but the distance made it impossible. We crashed. I passed out after that.”

“How’s Eric?’

“Eric’s safe. He’s had little scratches, but they are not that serious. The doctor says he can go home by tomorrow morning.”

“What about you? How long do you have to stay here?”

“A week or so, probably?” Jongin groans as he shifts position on the bed.

Kyungsoo nods, studying Jongin. He notices another tiny bruise on Jongin’s jaw.

“I didn't expect you'd come by,” Jongin says after a beat. “You were upset last time I heard from you. I was certain you meant every word you said on the phone.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Yet you came.”

“Minseok hyung convinced me to. I agreed. There’s no special meaning behind me being here.”

Jongin drops it at that, as he should, respecting the boundary between them. “You’ve done so much for me, Kyungsoo,” he says. “You’ve done things that nobody has ever done for me before. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Trust me, I do.”

* * *

A chocolate-brown poodle sprints across the park before it approaches Kyungsoo. He holds no power over the fur charm; not an ion of human rage survives that. So, he crouches down the ground, and with flopping ears and a wagging tail, the puppy squirms all over him. “What are you doing?” He giggles. “You’re cute, okay? But I don’t have treats for you.” The puppy with gooey round eyes gazes at him, then whimpers. “Don’t do that. You’re making me feel bad.”

“Monggu!”

He hears a voice nearby. Kyungsoo searches for the owner. He sees no other than Jongin, dashing toward him, clad in a cashmere sweater.

“It's you,” Jongin says as he picks Monggu up from the ground. “Sorry. He's still in training. And apparently, he likes attention very much.” He pets Monggu, stroking its head.

“Very much, indeed,” Kyungsoo says. He instinctively checks for any sign that Jongin hasn’t recovered yet from the weeks-old accident. But there is none. The bruises have faded to a lighter shade. “How’s your arm?”

“They had the cast removed a few days ago.” Jongin stretches the injured arm to prove Kyungsoo. “My recovery has been smooth,” he says. Monggu barks, and in dog language, that probably means: _time to feed me chimken, hooman_. “What’s wrong?” Jongin feigns a frown. Monggu noses at him. “Why do you keep licking my face?”

“He’s a friendly pup.”

“I’m walking him around the block. Do you want to come?”

Kyungsoo hesitates for a second. Monggu barks again. “Well, I don’t really have the heart to say no to that.”

They amble through the lane between trees and benches. It’s not as awkward as Kyungsoo has expected. First and foremost, it’s Jongin, and Jongin is quick to initiate a conversation. Second, Jongin’s speech is often gritty, peppered with humor, drenched in insights.

“A nightmare Christmas party. Taemin prayed not to receive anything green,” Jongin tells him. “But he got a Shrek beanie from one of the new hires. He was livid, told me he'd never give the poor guy a raise.”

Kyungsoo laughs. “There should’ve been a wish list. I wonder if Taemin tried wearing the beanie, though.”

“I'd be surprised if he did.” Jongin occupies the nearest bench and invites Kyungsoo to join him. “Father loved Christmas.” He smiles to himself.

“What presents did he give you?” Kyungsoo’s eyes dart to Jongin.

“Scarves and gloves, mostly. He was sensitive to cold. He worried a lot about the possibility of me or noona getting frostbites in winter.”

“That is very thoughtful.”

“It was his brand every Christmas. He used to put up decorations at home. He played Christmas songs and sang them like a pro. The holidays were much better with him around.” Jongin exhales. “I shouldn’t be talking about him, but it’s sad to think he has missed many celebrations. He could’ve been there. I could’ve been happier.”

“I can relate,” Kyungsoo says. “I understand where you’re coming from. I mean, I can’t remember feeling alive on Christmas Eve. It just feels dead to me, somehow?”

“Somehow. I bet you still buy yourself those star-shaped cookies.”

“Yeah, I do! They have pretty boxes and they’re my favorite. You have a problem with that?”

Jongin laughs, shaking his head. “You told me they gave you a cough once because they were too sweet.”

“Only once, you cookie slanderer.”

Silence lingers completely that Kyungsoo notices details like how barren the park seems at dusk or how the leaves swish-swoosh on the cobblestones along the pathway. The simplicity of it drives him to a conscious state of sitting next to Jongin—no words, no movements, just quiet and calm bonded together.

“I've been thinking about you lately,” Jongin says. He risks a glance at Kyungsoo. “Not lately, actually. It's far longer than I can imagine.” He pauses to elicit a reaction, but Kyungsoo doesn't speak.

Kyungsoo can tell Jongin wants him to drop the defenses and tell him how he feels. But he doesn't. “Jongin,” he says nonchalantly. “That's not fair.” He maintains eye contact with him. “You have everything now. Do you really think you can sneak your way back into my life just like that?”

Jongin stares at him helplessly. “Why do you keep saying I have everything? You know better than anyone else that that's not true. I'm also dispensable.”

“You're always certain.”

“And what about it?”

That is where Kyungsoo wavers. The certainty of Jongin's decision to leave him resonates loud and clear to him. “You and I made a lot of mistakes.” He steers the conversation. “You told me I was one of yours, remember?”

Of course, Jongin does. He gives a weak nod. “And I'm sorry.”

_I'm sorry_ has become an expected, well-practiced response, and for Kyungsoo, it's a sentence loaded with more questions, more expectations, and more disappointments.

“Do you wish things happened differently?” Jongin asks.

“So what if I do?” Kyungsoo retorts. “They've lost value. That's what happens when you don't take care of them. They wither through time.”

“Is that what you think?”

“Does it still matter?” Screw emotions. Kyungsoo can hide them remarkably well. “When I left the company, I realized that you and I did try, hard. But for what exactly? You simply needed me around. And maybe I thought I needed you because you grew on me. I found it impossible not to like you. You stood by me until you felt that leaving was the best option.”

Jongin looks forlorn. “You said you loved me,” he says after a while.

“I did. That was two years ago.”


	21. Day One and Counting

They have been talking on the phone for half an hour. “I need a full body massage and a five-star meal,” Junmyeon says over the line. He breathes a silent prayer. “There’s no denying I’ve been buried under a mountain of workload lately.”

“Well, you can hire me, but I normally charge six figures and I’m pretty fastidious about the terms in the contract,” Kyungsoo quips. He can visualize Junmyeon grinning ear to ear.

“That is such a bad idea. I’ve seen enough situations to think you and I shouldn’t work together in an office.”

“Eye on the prize, Junmyeon, eye on the prize. We can dominate the world. We can even top every list in the magazines. Can you imagine that? Let’s go after Baekhyun and Jongin!”

Junmyeon gives a small snort of laughter. “Is that what you want? Revenge?” he says with a tone that exudes a dash of don’t-be-silly-or-I-will-scream. “You’re not that kind of person. Baekhyun’s right about you, Kyungsoo. You’re a dreamer—a reasonable one. Like Jongin.”

The name hurts to a strange degree, not too much for him to crumble under the reminiscent feel of joy, not too little for him to ignore the pang of pain. “Come on, I’m incomparable to Jongin,” Kyungsoo says pointedly. “He’s not perfect but he has—”

“Everything?” Junmyeon finishes the sentence.

“Everything,” Kyungsoo echoes, like the word and its meaning have stuck with him since the beginning. He leans forward on the kitchen countertop, arms comfortably rested against the granite.

“Are you serious?” Junmyeon cries. “Jongin doesn’t have everything. He doesn’t have you.” There is a hint of comedic intent on the statement, but Junmyeon manages to deliver the point across.

“That sounds corny as hell. Please don’t say that again.”

“Jongin doesn't have you. Jongin doesn't have you. Jongin doesn't have you. So, he doesn’t have everything.”

Now that’s enough buffoonery for tonight. Kyungsoo seeks escape. “It’s time for bed,” he says to Junmyeon. “I’m getting sleepy.”

“Okay but listen. Spare me a minute, will you?”

“Shoot. Let’s hear it.”

“I ought to remind you that Jongin got back to the company not too long after the old chief executive resigned. It’s been less than a year, and believe me, he’s lucky for that. The board could’ve crucified him and tore him down, completely erased, forgotten in the history of business,” Junmyeon explains. “I’m a hundred percent certain he’s being monitored. I don’t see it, but I can tell the pressure is overwhelming for him. Some people may have stopped trusting him, that’s the truth, and he can only try and prove them he’s indeed capable of running the company.”

A lump rises in Kyungsoo’s throat. It’s incredible how Junmyeon can be equally insightful and annoying. “Is that an attempt to convince me that he deserves a second chance?”

“Maybe? Does it work?”

“Well, that’s a tough one.”

“You have no idea how difficult life must have been to Jongin. I know it doesn’t justify anything and I know it’s not enough a reason for you, but I hope it brings you something worth thinking about. Fair judgment, okay? Kyungsoo, you’re better than what your emotions are trying to portray you to be. That is all. You can rest now.”

“Let's go jog tomorrow.”

“My god,” Junmyeon snarls. “I didn’t expect that response. How random. Very random. Why would you ask me to jog with you out of the blue?”

“Because you asked me the other week and I refused, remember?” Kyungsoo says. “Besides, I’m off for two days. Help me spend them wisely.”

“I’m so confused. Are you sure?”

“Yes. 9:00 a.m. Don’t be late.”

“Fine. It’s a deal.”

In the morning, they course the length of Han River, along with cyclists, runners, and even passers-by. Locals hang around the area, chatting, enjoying the weather and the scenery.

The warmth of the sun casts over the layers of Kyungsoo’s clothes. He’s covered with coziness. He revels in the perfect temperature, sweat skulking under feathery bangs, legs baring strength with each heel movement. Ah, yes, there is the adrenaline rush! Whoop! It makes him endure ten more minutes before Junmyeon surrenders and suggests a short break.

“What the hell, Kyungsoo,” Junmyeon says, gasping for air. He playfully shoves him to the side. “Aren’t you pushing yourself too hard?”

“No, I’m not. It’s basic exercise.”

“Man, I must have aged badly.”

Kyungsoo laughs and hands Junmyeon the bottle of smoothie he prepared earlier at home. “Here, have a drink, Mr. I-must-have-aged-badly. It’s healthy for your body.”

“Healthy, huh? Better not be rabbit food or I’m throwing it up.”

“Mixed fruits.”

Junmyeon takes a sip, then nods at how delicious it is. “Oh, it’s sweet. The taste of the strawberry’s quite strong, but I like it. The texture’s perfect, too.” He drinks a second gulp. “Thanks for bringing one for me.”

“Don’t mention it.” Kyungsoo stretches an arm to the left then to the right. “My muscles feel weird.”

“Weird?”

“Yeah, like that of a weightlifter.”

Junmyeon chokes, chuckling. “We should do another lap. But I need something first.” He glances around and spots the nearest convenience store a block away from them. “Wait here. I'll buy us a snack. A light snack, I promise.”

“Okay, be quick!” Kyungsoo hollers after Junmyeon. He goes for a stroll with absolute calm, appreciating the view, listening to the hum of the wind.

The moment passes. On one of the benches, he recognizes a familiar face. There sits Baekhyun next to a woman cradling a baby in her arms. It's such a private moment, but Kyungsoo's heart races, and that's as real as it gets. There is no anatomical way to describe how it does a series of _thump, thump, thump._

Baekhyun wears a gentle, almost youthful expression, which Kyungsoo has never witnessed before. He studies him from afar and practically forgets to blink in astonishment. Baekhyun plays with the baby's fingers. He grins affectionately at the woman, whose eyes crinkle into crescents as she giggles.

_Why?_ Kyungsoo thinks. _Why did I let him win?_ He can recall the last conversation he had with Baekhyun. The image is still clear to him, from punching Baekhyun in the face to cutting him down to size with the truth. It should've been a temporary victory. It should've been an easy fight. But that's not the case. Kyungsoo's resolve then grows. And there follows the realization: perhaps the past can be undone.

For a second, Baekhyun gazes around until he catches sight of Kyungsoo. The recognition and shock register slowly as if measuring the exact distance between them. Baekhyun, of all the rotten bastards that exist, smiles at Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo doesn't. He can’t bring himself to reciprocate it. He lingers for a while, silently sending Baekhyun the message that he hasn’t been nor won’t be forgotten.

An Audi RS7 arrives by the curb. Baekhyun escorts the woman toward the vehicle. Before he slips into the backseat, he gives Kyungsoo a once-over as though bidding farewell to an old friend. Then he's gone without a trace.

“I'm back,” Junmyeon says from behind. He’s clutching a brown paper bag.

“Junmyeon, I need to go,” Kyungsoo tells him.

“Where? What's going on?”

Kyungsoo snubs Junmyeon's protest. He does hear him saying the stupid egg sandwich is delicious as he sprints down the street. He turns around, guilt-ridden, mumbling an apology before disappearing into the cluster of commercial and industrial structures.

Soon, he reaches the headquarters, where nearly half of the people in the lobby are dressed in a suit. Not like it matters. His sportswear is decent, except that corporate frowns upon casual and has zero tolerance for violating the dress code. But who the fuck cares? He doesn’t work there anymore. Screw the policy. Screw Human Resources. It’s not worth a drop of sweat. Kyungsoo walks straight ahead with confidence.

When the elevator grinds to a halt on the executive floor, Kyungsoo's footsteps drag him to a corner room, closer and closer and closer. He balks.

“Mr. Do? Is that you?”

There is Mark blinking vacantly at him. He must be Jongin’s new secretary.

“You've been missed!” Mark exclaims, beaming, surprised and delighted to see Kyungsoo. “Is there anything I can help you with? Would you like some tea or coffee?”

“That's polite of you, Mark, but no, thank you,” Kyungsoo says. “I'm here for Mr. Kim and I'm sort of in a hurry. Is he inside?”

Mark nods. “Yes, you may go in.”

Kyungsoo files into Jongin's office. It's nostalgic for him to stand there, on that particular spot, looking at a busy Jongin, whose concentration can hardly be shaken by an uninvited guest.

“Kyungsoo?” Jongin says, baffled by Kyungsoo’s presence. “What are you doing here?”

“Did you ever love me?” he asks. It’s crazy how the toughest questions are answerable by yes or no.

Jongin stares at him for what feels far too long.

“Did you ever love me?” Kyungsoo repeats in a louder voice that the desperation and sadness in it become too apparent. “Why didn't you fight for me like I did for you? Two years, Jongin. Two fucking years. I thought about what I should've done or said better for you to stay.” He watches Jongin swallow.

“It was enough,” Jongin mumbles. He rises from the chair to approach him. “You said enough, Kyungsoo, and you did enough.”

“Then why did you leave? You were all I had after I lost everyone.”

Jongin's mouth hangs then flatlines, struggling to respond. “I'm sorry.”

“Make me understand,” Kyungsoo’s lips tremble. He eyes him.

“I have nothing more to say to you.” And that’s where the conversation thunders down.

“Okay.” Kyungsoo nods regardless of Jongin’s soul-crushing response. He can deal with the despair later. For now, he must be accepting. Bold, if that counts. “I guess that answers my question.”

Kyungsoo exits Jongin’s office. His chest squeezes and his head pulsates. Mark greets him again, but he loses the slightest bit of energy to acknowledge him. He marvels at Ryeowook’s words: _You leave and you never return. But you grow and you learn._ He hurries out of the building.

* * *

The new text message reads: _Mad worried about you. Call me when you're ready to talk. I can grab an egg sandwich for you and a Sprite. Stay warm._

Kyungsoo smiles miserably at Junmyeon's attempt to rescue him from a gloomy evening. He fiddles with the remote control of the television and huddles deeper under a striped wool blanket. As fleeting and mundane the dim lights may be, they serve him comfort, glowing, livening the atmosphere; they illuminate just fine and mute the colors.

There is a voice of an actor singing a rendition of a popular Western song. The high notes reverberate through the living room until Kyungsoo hears a buzz. He jolts upright, fazed, searching for a sign of human presence. Fuck a ghost. It’s almost midnight. He’s more afraid of burglars. His expensive silverware can be a target. And Kyungsoo will sure as hell protect it from being stolen.

He double-checks the lock and is startled by another buzz. “Who's out there?” he says bravely.

“It's me.”

_Jesus Christ._

Of course, it's Jongin. There is no one else it can be.

Kyungsoo falters. He opens the door and finds Jongin in an overcoat. He's wearing a pair of round eyeglasses, and well, he may or may not be fresh out of bed, possibly awaken from a night of interrupted sleep. The semi-ruffled hair confirms Kyungsoo's assumption.

“Can I talk to you?” Jongin asks. “Please?”

“You're literally on my doorstep, Jongin.”

“I'll take that as a yes.”

If Jongin dares mess with him, Kyungsoo can guarantee a battle of words. “What is it?” His voice is slightly impatient. He gazes back at Jongin for a moment.

“I'm not interrupting you, am I?” Jongin’s nervousness shows.

“Seriously?” Kyungsoo says petulantly. He strokes his arm, feeling the whiff of wind creeping over him. “No, you're not interrupting me. But I’m really tired. And I don't have forever, do I?”

“Who does?” Jongin shrugs off his overcoat, then wraps it around Kyungsoo.

The gesture is sincere, knowing Jongin, but Kyungsoo doesn't let it affect him. Not so soon. “Do you have something to say to me, Jongin?”

Jongin shuffles. He's fighting the classic frown, too obvious, too deliberate for Kyungsoo not to notice. “You asked me earlier,” he says finally. “And I couldn't find the courage to answer.”

“I asked you a lot of questions. Which one?”

“Everything.” A pause. “Kyungsoo, after what happened to us, I felt lost.” Another pause. “We both needed time apart to make things right.”

“Or we could’ve done that together,” Kyungsoo says, voice laced with disappointment.

Jongin opposes the idea. “We could’ve, but there were repercussions to what we did in the past. If I stayed, I wouldn’t be able to pretend I was okay in front of you; I would’ve completely destroyed myself. Worse, you. And that thought scared me. You had a future ahead of you. I couldn’t care less about how the board responded to the news, but your name was at stake because of me. How was I supposed to react to that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you’d resist.”

Kyungsoo can’t argue with that.

“I told you I’d be fine without you. I was wrong,” Jongin says. “And it was cowardly of me.”

“What exactly is your point?”

“I don't know.” Jongin looks defenseless. “I may not have thought this through very well. But I'm sorry for hurting you, for making you doubt yourself. I should've been braver.” He stares downward. “I chose to leave because it seemed like the only option that time. You were young, born with potential, and I didn’t want my own problems to ruin your plans for yourself.”

“What plans?”

“You graduated. You got a job. You met inspiring people along the way. Now here you are. You're doing amazing in your career. I’ve always wished that for you.” Jongin smiles, breaking the tension. “You deserve it.”

Kyungsoo shrugs. “I'm not happy.”

“Neither am I,” Jongin admits, somewhat ashamed. He moves closer to him. “I love you, Kyungsoo. I know that's long-overdue, but I do.”

“You’re using office language.” Kyungsoo gives a soft laugh. “Don’t.”

“I've had a rough day at work.”

“I can bet on that.”

Jongin blushes faintly on the obvious banter. “The vocabulary's stuck with me.”

“So am I.” Kyungsoo leans forward and initiates a kiss.

It doesn't take a second before Jongin kisses him back. “Is this okay?” he asks, cupping Kyungsoo's face with both hands.

“Yes,” Kyungsoo whispers. He urges Jongin inside and kicks the door shut. He falls back-first against the wall, arms circled around Jongin's neck, heat rushing through the body. Jongin’s goddamned overcoat descends to the floor, neglected.

In the seconds that follow, he guides Jongin to the couch. Jongin does so willingly, gripping Kyungsoo's waist, wanting to feel him, desperate for his touches.

Kyungsoo straddles him, then spends a moment to look at him in the eye.

“I miss you here,” Jongin says, tracing an index finger over the roof of Kyungsoo’s mouth, “And here,”—to the curve of his neck—”And here,”—to the peak of his shoulder—”And here,”—and finally to Kyungsoo's chest.

“I know.” Kyungsoo draws him in for an open-mouthed kiss.

Jongin moans and melts into it, holding him tighter, nibbling gently at Kyungsoo's lower lip.

The night continues and continues perfectly.

* * *

It's past eight o’clock, there is drizzle, and Kyungsoo rests cocooned in the scent of subtle cologne and freshly laundered sheets. He feels a pair of arms draped around him. The weather hints below five degrees Celsius, and with the sunlight filtering through the eburnean curtains over the set of windows, he soothes in, listening to the hushed breathing behind him.

He rolls on the opposite side of the bed, and there sleeps Jongin, whose cheek is burrowed into the pillow. “Wake up,” he says into Jongin's ear. “You're late for work.”

Jongin's brow scrunches. “Am I?” he asks in a sleep-induced voice.

“Yes, Mr. Kim, your empire awaits,” Kyungsoo jests. He draws an invisible line along the bridge of Jongin's nose. Jongin flinches at the touch. “Should I tell Mark that you'll be late?”

Jongin gives him a low hum of approval. “I'll call in sick. Come here.” He invites him to cuddle. When Kyungsoo obliges, Jongin practically squeezes him to stay longer in bed with him.

“You can't call in sick.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Old habits die hard, huh.” Jongin chuckles against Kyungsoo’s hair.

“I really hope you're kidding.”

“Tell you what, I'm not.”

“Okay,” Kyungsoo surrenders. “I guess I have you all to myself now.”

“If that makes you happy,” he says, and Kyungsoo faces him. “I've missed you, Kyungsoo. I should've said that sooner.” He brushes a thumb over Kyungsoo's chin. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m going to take care of you.” He kisses Kyungsoo on the lips. “That’s a promise.”

Kyungsoo reprises it once, then twice, cupping Jongin's jaw to keep their heads at a proper angle. He climbs on top of Jongin, lips against lips, chest against chest, and Jongin holds him. He breathes shallowly, writhing at the feel of Jongin’s hand roaming all over him, fingertips pressing underneath his shirt, rubbing the strip of bare skin with gentle circles.

He pauses to look at Jongin. “So, breakfast? I’m in the mood to cook you a delicious meal.”

“How many choices do I have?” Jongin asks.

“Well, breakfast after or breakfast before. You’ve got two choices. But I’m pretty sure you can do both.”

“It’s a win-win for me, then.”

They share a laugh.

Kyungsoo hops out of bed, and as he stands at the door, waiting, he catches Jongin staring at him. “Now, now, don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind,” he says, feigning exasperation. “What is it?”

“I'm so in love with you.”

“Oh, you'll get over it!”

Jongin chuckles. “I certainly won't.”


	22. Epilogue

One year later. 

The hotel dips in the hues of strong browns and impeccable whites. It nurtures safety despite the sense of unfamiliarity. Beyond the curtains is a city dense with soaring structures, defining New York's skyline, captured perfectly by the view from the room.

“Are you ready?” Jongin asks as he veers away from the floor mirror.

“Yes,” Kyungsoo says with delay. “Um, no, not really.” He backpedals. At least he chooses to be honest with Jongin at a time of trepidation. “I don't know why but I'm a bit nervous. It's crazy.”

Jongin walks over to him. “You shouldn't be.” He helps Kyungsoo put on a trench coat and pulls him closer until they are standing a couple of inches apart. “Look at you.” Jongin lifts Kyungsoo's chin a little. The gaze is so tender that Kyungsoo gradually relaxes. “You're lovely. You've got nothing to worry about, okay?”

“I'll try to be on my best behavior.”

“And I'll try not to push your buttons. If that helps?”

Kyungsoo draws him in for a quick kiss on the lips. But before he lets go, Jongin holds him tighter for another one that lasts for a few breathtaking seconds. Kyungsoo's fingers trace the curve of Jongin's jaw. He chuckles as he feels a hand squeezing him behind. “I think you're failing miserably, Jongin,” he tells Jongin. “You do realize you're making it difficult for me and you, don't you?”

“I do,” Jongin says, smiling against Kyungsoo's mouth. “We should go.”

“We should. Come on.” Kyungsoo drags Jongin toward the door.

It takes them fifteen to twenty minutes before they arrive at a luxurious apartment where Heejin, Jongin's mother, and Adam live. It's a fifty-story building in Manhattan, anchored by skyscrapers, built with modern appurtenances.

When Heejin welcomes them at the door, she is quick to embrace Jongin. “Oh, I've missed you, Jongin!” she cries.

“It smells nice in here,” Jongin says, humming.

“Adam is preparing dinner,” Heejin explains. She turns to Kyungsoo, grinning. “Kyungsoo, my dear.” She reaches for Kyungsoo's hand and leads him inside. “Thank you for coming with Jongin. You have no idea how happy I am to see you again.”

Kyungsoo's cheeks warm. “It's my pleasure,” he says, quite abashed. “I didn't expect Jongin would invite me.” He shares a smile with Jongin. “He was nice enough to bring me with him.”

“I hope you're both enjoying your stay.” Heejin budges into the room, searching for Adam. “Honey, can you please turn off the stove for me? I wouldn't want to serve my children with a bowl of burnt soup.”

“Got it!” Adam yells from the kitchen.

“Let me take your coat for you,” Jongin says, and Kyungsoo thereby obliges, mumbling a _thank you_.

Heejin seems surprised and touched. She strokes Jongin's shoulder. “You take care of Kyungsoo well. It’s sweet.”

“He takes care of me better than I do,” Jongin says. “Mother, it's been like that ever since. No one takes care of me the way he does.”

Kyungsoo tries not to lose composure at that. How can Jongin's words be simple, calming, and homey all at once? It has been a year since then, but Jongin still gives him the warm fuzzies whenever he hears him proud and loud about him.

“My, my, you're perfect for each other.” Heejin's voice is filled with relief.

“Hello!” Adam singsongs, wearing a bumblebee-yellow apron. He dashes toward Jongin and Kyungsoo to greet them with a hug. “Welcome! Welcome! How are you guys? Christ, Kyungsoo, you've grown so fine.”

It's probably because of the new pair of eyeglasses, but Kyungsoo accepts the compliment humbly. He acknowledges Adam's hospitality. The man exudes the energy of a ceremonial firework.

At six o'clock, Adam and Heejin set the table with different dishes: ranch-seasoned roast turkey, mashed potatoes, apple pie, green bean casserole, and cream of mushroom soup. The menu resembles that of a feast. Kyungsoo isn't one to complain because the first bite leaves him more than satisfied.

“Do you like it?” Jongin asks, to which Adam anticipates Kyungsoo's response.

Kyungsoo nods, offering a double thumbs up. “It's delicious. You're an incredible cook, Adam.”

“He follows every recipe religiously,” Heejin chips in.

“That's true. I can't improvise. I'd love to learn how to make bibimbap for my wife.”

“I wrote you a guide.”

“Oh, I almost forgot! I should buy the right ingredients soon. I'm a bit particular with them.”

“See? You're a stickler for the rules.”

Adam chortles. “What about you, Kyungsoo? I've heard you make kimchi fried rice like a real chef.”

“He does,” Jongin agrees. “It's my favorite.” He pours Kyungsoo another glass of white wine.

“Yeah, I do. But lately, I've been tweaking my recipe because Jongin is pretty much a fan of spicy food."

“I appreciate that.”

“Oh, I’m glad that you and Jongin have enough time to just loosen up or do couple stuff,” Heejin says. “Jongin here tends to be a bit too focused on his job, Kyungsoo. He’s not the man for the impatient. Please bear with him.”

“He’s a responsible partner.” Kyungsoo chuckles. “He knows exactly when to call or text me. I’m the one who’s pretty bad at responding on time.”

“I’ve learned not to mind late responses,” Jongin says, forking a slice of roast turkey. “Life happens. We get busy.” He shrugs. “I think of you at work. That should count.”

“Told you, he’s responsible,” Kyungsoo jokes. He earns a laugh from both Adam and Heejin.

“So, are you guys planning to get married?” Adam pops the question in a casual manner that Heejin blinks vacantly at him, Kyungsoo stops chewing, and Jongin's face reddens. “What? Is that out of the topic?” He looks incredulous. “You're practically joined at the hip. And marriage is a beautiful thing. There's nothing shameful about wanting to be with the person you love for the rest of your life.”

“We haven't...” Jongin trails off, but he holds Kyungsoo's hand under the table, brushing a thumb over the knuckles.

Kyungsoo risks a glance at Jongin and just smiles as if sending him the message that he's fine.

“Come on, Adam, don't pressure them into deciding a crucial part of their relationship on the spot,” Heejin says. “They're in love. That's what matters.”

“Trust me, I've been there before. Correction, you and I have been there before.”

“Exactly. They will get there.”

“You have our support, Kyungsoo, Jongin,” Adam says with a grin. “Always. Should we drink to that?”

And they do.

It's almost nine o’clock in the evening. They stroll down the street, heading back for the hotel. The moon shines above them as the night continues.

“Sorry about what Adam said,” Jongin says to break the silence. “I would never want to put you in a tight spot where you'd be forced to deal with something difficult.”

“Don't worry, I guess it's just Adam being Adam,” Kyungsoo answers. There is a contemplative pause. “Thanks for speaking on behalf of me, though.”

“You couldn't utter a word. What was I supposed to do?” Jongin laughs.

Kyungsoo grins at him in amusement. “Your mother was staring at me. I felt cornered and tense and flustered.”

Jongin stops on the sidewalk and maneuvers Kyungsoo to the nearby corner. “I could tell,” he says. “Listen. I love you, Kyungsoo. I don't need a ring to prove you a lifetime of that isn't quite enough. But if a ring is all it takes to be with you, then I'll do it.”

* * *

> _Author's Note: Hello! Happy Valentine's Day! I would like to thank everybody who had supported Hired by the Boss since the very beginning. Two years ago, I experienced a writing drought because of how stressful and demanding my old job was. So, it was extremely fulfilling for me to finish this fic after nine months of juggling work, school, and kpop. I wouldn't have done it without you, and of course, my beta reader, Paw Paw. Such a pleasure to walk this journey with you._
> 
> _I hope it is not too much to ask, but please hit the kudos button or leave a comment if you've enjoyed it. Thank you. Till next time. You're all awesome!_

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, it's been a while. After a millennium of missing in action, I've decided to rewrite Hired by the Boss. I used to publish it from 2014 to 2016 on Asianfanfics, and for quite some time, I stopped updating regularly because life kind of happened. 
> 
> Please drop some comments if you have a minute to spare.
> 
> Stay safe, everyone! Wash your hands!


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